


the final rose

by tootsonnewts



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bachelor AU, M/M, Shiro pines, a horse shows up, but not with the animals there, coran is an angel, literally nobody but five people know why they're even there, shiro wears multiple swimsuits, so do some sheep, wherein shiro is both cautiously optimistic and supremely doubtful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-07-23 13:02:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16159496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/pseuds/tootsonnewts
Summary: “Well, Shiro?” Zarkon rumbles from across the endless, freezing cabin of the car. The driver must have cranked the air conditioner at some point along the way of their drive from the airport to the hotel. Shiro wonders how he didn’t notice.“I’m sorry?” he says sheepishly. “I missed your question.”Zarkon releases an even breath, annoyance laced between each atom of carbon dioxide. Instead of voicing his displeasure, however, he simply adjusts his garish cufflinks and repeats himself. “I asked if you were looking forward to beginning your journey.”On this, the most dramatic season of The Bachelor yet, we follow Takashi Shirogane - a battered war veteran with a heart of gold - as he begins his journey for love. Can he overcome the challenges that come his way as he navigates the battlefield of love? Is his true match hidden deep in the heart of unknown territory? Let's find out together!





	1. and so it begins.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kittymills](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittymills/gifts).



> this is entirely thanks to [deb for her original inspiration](http://flashedarrow.tumblr.com/post/177054794638/oh-no-bachie-has-started-up-again-and-now-all-i), and so graciously allowing me to write for this au!  
> i think everybody knows who she is, but if you don't, please go check out her work!
> 
> we tossed some ideas back and forth, and i'm so excited to start writing this lil baby out! i hope you enjoy it as much as i've enjoyed working on it!
> 
> feel free to come see me over on [tumblr](http://tootsonnewts.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/_tootsonnewts) to say hi!

Limos, in Shiro’s opinion, are way too big to serve any valuable purpose. And yet he finds himself unbearably stifled, crammed onto the back seat of one with two cameras and a slick producer staring him down expectantly. The man’s mouth is tight, lips thin with expectation, although Shiro finds himself hard-pressed to imagine what he’s expecting, exactly.

Zarkon is an imposing man. These are words Shiro doesn’t put lightly. He knows himself—tall, broad, scarred and battered war veteran with a soft heart protected by hard knuckles. Nothing much in this universe intimidates him anymore. Zarkon, however—he’s an exception. He’s a mountain of a man, as cliche as Shiro feels to think it. Easily pushing seven feet tall, shoulders just as wide as his stance, Zarkon and his no-nonsense attitude feel fit to put anyone in the ground with little apology and even less damage to his three-thousand dollar suit. Whatever he asks, Shiro thinks he’ll do without question.

The thought is troubling.

“Well, Shiro?” Zarkon rumbles from across the endless, freezing cabin of the car. The driver must have cranked the air conditioner at some point along the way of their drive from the airport to the hotel. Shiro wonders how he didn’t notice.

“I’m sorry?” he says sheepishly. “I missed your question.”

Zarkon releases an even breath, annoyance laced between each atom of carbon dioxide. Instead of voicing his displeasure, however, he simply adjusts his garish cufflinks and repeats himself. “I asked if you were looking forward to beginning your journey.”

Shiro pauses a moment to really consider that. Is he? He’s not entirely sure. Ryou was the one who suggested he sign up on a drunken dare. At the time, it sounded hilarious to him, given the condition of his body...among other things. Imagine his surprise, then, when he stepped into the casting room for his first interview with the show’s producers and immediately received an offer to participate. The rigorous series of tests and evaluations thereafter was more intense than the entry process for his actual job, but that was par for the course, he assumed. He’s still shocked he passed through it all. It’s not that he isn’t planning to enter the process (journey, he supposes he should use; the last time he called it a process did _not_ go well for him) with an open mind or anything, it’s just that the nerves regarding a mansion full of potential spouses—not to mention an entire nation—looking him over with a critical eye are nearly overwhelming.

So, truthfully, he doesn’t know if he’s looking forward to it.

At 27, Shiro knows he’s ready to pursue something serious. He’s ready to find a partner and settle down into a quieter life. His career at the Garrison has evened out into a nice balance of instructing and the occasional equipment testing, he bought his first home a couple years back, and he’s settled back into a nice pattern of visits and phone calls with his family on a weekly basis. Everything is fitting together nicely for once and it’s a bright relief. But there’s a hole there, somewhere near the center of his chest. A missing piece of his heart that he knows he can find if he’s patient. Maybe that light can be at the end of this tunnel. Maybe all he needs to do is hang on and go along for the ride. It’s not like he has any idea of what he’s doing anyway. It’s as good a place as any to start.

“You know, I think I am looking forward to it.”

“Fantastic,” Zarkon answers without enthusiasm. Something about him really rubs Shiro the wrong way, but he’s always presented himself like this, so it’s not much of a surprise at this point to find he has no patience. “Well, as you know, tomorrow will be day one at the mansion, so we have a few things we need to cover before I send you to your hotel room for the evening.”

It still strikes Shiro as a little odd that he’ll be staying at a hotel across the city rather than in a room of the mansion, but he supposes it would be much too easy for contestants to try and cheat that way.

Contestants.

It’s not a word he really likes. He can feel his mouth twist up just with the thought of it. Something about it feels too clinical and precise. Like Shiro is a broadcast showcase prize to be valued and won. No, he’d prefer them to be called something else. Acquaintances? Potentials? Suitors? He supposes the last one is the most correct, although it seems a little Austen-esque to use the term.

“First things first,” Zarkon continues, breaking Shiro’s train of thought. “Some ground rules for you. I know we’ve already instructed you in most procedures and what we expect of you as the bachelor, but we often find that things change when our Bachelors and Bachelorettes get dropped into the game.”

Game? Shiro stops short at that. Is that all this truly is? Just a game to play and strategize and win? What about the prize at the end? More and more, he’s feeling dubious about it all. Shiro is no reward, and he refuses to be treated as such. Zarkon is ignorant to Shiro’s inner turmoil as he continues.

“So, just to reiterate, you are not to have contact with any outside sources, be that your friends, family, or job. We will make contact for you, should that necessity arise. Additionally, we expect you to conduct yourself in a manner conducive to the image we have established for you—that is, a clean cut, relatable, affable veteran with a heart of gold. You are large and muscular, fit and attractive, but you don’t know it. You have been through troubles and choose to use those troubles as a platform with which you can elevate others. Does this sound doable?”

Zarkon’s gaze is scrutinous and hard, scraping Shiro raw beneath its force. The description of him isn’t too far off from things he’s heard about himself several times over, but to have it boiled down so succinctly is jarring. He’s more than that, surely. He has emotions and motivations other than kindness. There’s more to him than his (in his opinion) arguable looks. Truth be told, Shiro has never seen a full season of the show, but he likes to hope they don’t present as some perfect ideation of what a potential husband should be. Nobody is perfect, and likewise, nobody should be shown that way.

Still, if this is what he has to do, then it’s what he has to do.

“Yeah, that sounds doable.”

“Perfect. Moving along then, it will still be quite some time before this will occur, but please do try and remember not to tell anyone you love them prior to the end of the show. Slips have happened before and it gets...messy for us to work around.”

Shiro snorts softly, looking out the window at the scenery rolling by.

“I don’t think that will be an issue,” he whispers. He’s being optimistic, but he’s not an idiot. There’s no way for anyone to truly fall in love over the course of seven weeks. Even if the seven weeks go perfectly, whittling down a pool of twenty-five people to just one seems more chaotic than anything. It hardly seems a way to make a real connection of enduring strength.

“Now,” Zarkon says, turning somehow even more serious, “you’re going to find someone you like the most on the first night. I know you won’t think so, but believe me, you will. You must do your best not to show that preference. In fact, we prefer it if you don’t give your favorite the first impression rose.” Shiro opens his mouth to object, maybe say something about how disingenuous that feels, but Zarkon simply holds up a hand to stop him in his tracks. “I know this seems callous, but you must remember that we are filming a television show. We want you to succeed, of course”—and for some reason, Shiro is coming to doubt that—“but we also have ratings and storylines to consider. We will give you all the time you need to become familiar with your contestants after night one.”

The limo pulls to a stop outside of a swankier hotel than Shiro has ever seen in his life, and a valet steps forward to open the door. As Shiro makes to step outside, Zarkon’s heavy hand settles on his shoulder to drag him back in.

“And one more thing, Takashi.” Shiro looks over at him with a raised brow. “Good luck.”

And it seems, to him, that he’ll need it.

“Thank you, sir,” Shiro answers, more out of habit than respect. Someday, maybe he’ll break the pattern. But then again, there are a lot of things he’d like to accomplish someday.

“Of course. Please, enjoy your room and do let us know should you require anything.”

Shiro nods his head in affirmative and steps out of the limo. His bag isn’t there for him to grab himself, which he probably should have expected. Still, he would have liked to have it beside him, something real and grounding he could lean his weight on, even for just a few minutes. One of the show’s assistant producers shows him to the elevator, punching the button for the top floor.

“You’ll know you’re there when you’re there,” she says with a wink, slipping him a room fob and stepping out of the elevator. It’s a hell of a confusing sentence, but it quickly makes sense when the elevator door slides open once more to reveal a lobby leading to only one door. It would seem that his room is slightly more than just a room.

Shiro tries to contain his reaction as he steps through the front door into what he can only think of as an entire apartment. It’s a gigantic suite, complete with living room, full kitchen, master bedroom, and a full bathroom. The walls are floor to ceiling windows framed with gauzy curtains that look out over the entirety of the city, and it’s breathtaking to sweep his eyes over. As he walks into the bedroom, he stops short to find his bags already laid out on the bed, alongside a hefty gift bag. Shiro wasn’t told anything about it beforehand, so he wonders if it must have something to do with the show. He sits down on the edge of the bed, kicking his shoes off to the side, and starts pawing through the tissue paper. As he does, he realizes that no, it’s not something to do with the show at all. It’s a massive gift bag full of body products, accessories, and clothing. Everything inside has to be worth more than Shiro makes in a month, and that thought alone is enough to damn near send him spiraling into a panic attack.

Suddenly, the reality of this whole thing sinks in.

Shiro took a three-month leave of absence from his job to come here and participate in this show. It hasn’t even started yet, but he’s been given a laundry list of expectation and rules, and showered with gifts he could never afford for himself. If this is how he’s being treated, then what about the suitors? Will they be given the same consideration? The same gifts? What if their expectations are set before he ever even meets them? What if they end up wanting more than he could ever give?

Carefully, Shiro sets the bag aside on the floor and leans forward, sticking his head between his knees and taking deep breaths. He wishes more than anything for the chance to call his brother. Ryou would know what to say to talk him down. Granted, it would most likely be a joke at Shiro’s expense, but he would gladly take it.

Instead, he’s left to himself and his own swirling thoughts. It’s never a really great place for him to be.

It’s relatively early in the evening, he realizes, glancing at the clock on the table beside his immense bed. Even so, he feels exhausted, incredibly weighed down by the new prospects set out before him. To busy himself, Shiro puts all of his things away in some semblance of order, and then makes his way to the bathroom for a shower. He stands quietly beneath the spray of the most ridiculous shower head he’s ever seen and wills his nerves to relax. He’s still the one ultimately in charge of himself, here. He can do this. Maybe. He hopes.

It’s with this thought that Shiro slips between silken sheets and drifts into restless slumber.

 

+++

 

The next morning, sharp knocks at his front door jar Shiro out of his fitful sleep. He stumbles out of bed to answer it, and is immediately bombarded by no less than ten people as they flood in to prepare him for the day. The apartment fills with chatter and commotion as he finds himself tugged this way and that in an effort to make him presentable for the long day ahead.

“Alright, Shiro,” Honerva, Zarkon’s second-in-command, says briskly. “I can’t lie to you, today is going to be _long._ I know it’s not the best of situations, but we’re going to try and make it as painless as possible for everyone involved. The good thing is, there are no dates tonight. Just some good, old-fashioned meet cutes. And getting to know _you_ , of course. We’ll help you through the selection process, and with whatever choices you’ll need to make at the end of the night.”

“Thank you,” Shiro answers politely. He’s still sleepy, a little grumpy at being dragged out of bed the way he was, so it’s difficult to find a couple brain cells to rub together and produce anything substantial. “When you say long, how long are we talking?”

“Mmm,” she considers, a hand to her chin, “you should be done no later than seven?”

“Oh, well that’s not too bad.”

“In the morning.”

Shiro’s eyes widen. “But it’s barely”—he glances at his watch—“nine now?”

“Like I said, long day.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You’re telling me.”

Another hour passes this way, with Shiro being primped and primed, and Honerva giving him little bits of information about the upcoming evening and everything he’ll need to know. She informs him that memorizing everyone’s names won’t be a priority, as she’ll be standing by with flashcards with each contestant’s name and information. It’s efficient, if not a little detached, but it makes sense. There’s no way Shiro thinks he’ll be able to remember everyone in just a few hours, so he’s grateful for the help.

Preparations wrap up and Shiro is crammed, yet again, into a limo. Only this time, everything is beginning. As they drive toward the mansion where he very well could meet his future husband, Shiro finds himself at the end of a new round of questioning by Honerva.

“Your journey begins this evening, Shiro. Are you looking forward to meeting the men?”

“I _am_ looking forward to meeting everybody,” he answers honestly. “It still doesn’t totally feel real, so I think when I finally have the chance to say hello to everyone, it’ll sort of make it feel more concrete to me that I’m actually doing this.”

“And what, exactly, are you doing?”

Shiro scratches the back of his neck nervously. “I’m looking for a husband.”

“That’s what we like to hear!” Honerva pumps her fist in the air to punctuate her words, and whether it’s a calculated move or not, it instantly helps put Shiro at ease. Even if they have ulterior motives, ultimately, the producers are here to help him. At least, Honerva seems to be. Maybe he can rely on her just a little bit more throughout everything.

The limo pulls up to the mansion where the contestants will be introduced and settled down, and as they pull in, Shiro marvels at the spectacle. Every available inch is draped in flowers and string lighting that will most definitely look romantic once the sun goes down. A squirming feeling stirs in Shiro’s belly, be it nerves or something else, he can’t quite tell. What he does know, however, is that he’s actually looking forward to seeing everything later in the evening.

With each step further onto the mansion grounds, he finds his resolve strengthening. He can totally do this. He’s ready to find someone special to spend his life with. This could be amazing if he just lets it be. His fists flex at his sides as he’s lead into the room set up for one-on-one interviews, and just before he walks through the door, he shakes them out. It releases the tension he didn’t realize had built throughout the car ride there, and after a deep breath, he’s ready.

They talk for a long time about his goals (" _I just want to be happy."_ ) and what he likes most in a partner ( _“I like someone who cares enough to support me but also give me a little kick sometimes, you know? Someone with a little bit of fire."_ ). Honerva asks about his family ( _“God, they’re just the best people, you have no idea. My brother is my best friend.”_ ) and job ( _There’s nothing like the sky, you know? Flying is just...it’s incredible. I love that I get to pass that on to new students every year. It’s amazing.”_ ).

“Well, Shiro,” Honerva says with a smile after quite some time. The earpiece she constantly sports is buzzing in her ear, letting her know details about the night, presumably. “Are you ready to get this show on the road?”

Shiro gulps loudly, rolling his head around on his neck. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Honerva smiles and lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, you’ll be great. Let’s go see Coran.”

Coran is...well. Shiro doesn’t quite know how to describe Coran. They met, albeit briefly, while Shiro was still interviewing and testing for the show, and even then he was a lot. He’s a whirlwind of a man, all shining teeth and bright ginger hair, mustachioed and gregarious. Even with his huge personality, though, there’s something about him that Shiro finds endearing. In a way, Shiro thinks Coran’s presence is a bit comforting.

“Shiro! The man of the hour!” Coran shouts cheerfully as Shiro and Honerva step outside to get ready for the first round of contestants. He reaches out to shake Coran’s hand, but is surprised when the man tugs him in close for a lung-crushing hug.

“Hey there, Coran,” Shiro laughs with a wheeze. “How are you?”

“I’m quite well, young man! And how are you? Are you ready for your journey into love?”

“I don’t really think I have a choice, do you?” Shiro answers, only partly joking. Coran is a man of good humor, however, and picks up on Shiro’s thread of nerves.

“Don’t you worry! They’ll love you! That’s the point, now isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Shiro answers quietly, a small smile breaking across his mouth. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

He doesn’t get time to ruminate on that, because as Coran smiles back at him and gives his shoulder a hearty pat, the first limo rolls up.

“Alright, then, Shiro!” Coran says brightly with another clap to Shiro’s back. “Good luck!”

Coran retreats inside the mansion and Shiro is left, alone and sweating beneath towers of stage lights. The nerves come rushing back in a tidal wave of nausea, threatening to sweep him off his feet, and just as Shiro gulps in a deep breath and shuts his eyes, the limo door opens.

Shiro’s eyes flutter open and before him, a gorgeous man stands to his full height. He’s attractive in a serious, studious way, ruffled brown hair piled neatly on his head and compact glasses perched on his nose. He smiles lightly as he steps forward with a hand outstretched. “Hi, there. I’m Adam.”

Shiro’s heart flutters at his voice. It’s light and smooth and _God,_ he thinks. If all of the men are like this, he’s going to be doomed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Adam,” he says, taking the offered hand for a firm shake.

“You have a lot of people to meet tonight, so I’m not going to take up too much of your time, but I look forward to getting to know you.”

“Thank you, Adam,” Shiro answers with a smile. “I’ll see you in there.”

“See you soon,” Adam confirms, retreating into the house.

Before the next person gets out, Shiro takes a deep breath. “Holy shit,” he whispers to himself. He’s really doing this, these guys are really real, and he is so overwhelmed.

The next two guys—Thomas and some guy that goes by the nickname Bii-boh-bi—are pleasant, if unremarkable, but the next is something else.

James is sharp, all angles and planes in a runway model sort of way. “I hope we get some time to talk in there. I think we’ll really get along,” he says with a smirk. The expression hides something, but Shiro is hard-pressed to suss out what it is. Still, he can’t help but be intrigued by the prospect of getting to know him.

The next guy to climb out is slightly rugged, in an oddly coordinated sort of way. His name is Rolo, and he’s a software engineer somewhere in the middle of the country. He seems nice enough, if not a little slick. Following him is the last of limo one, a huge guy by the name Prorok. He’s imposing and severe, exuding a raw sort of power that makes Shiro shiver. Their handshake feels more like a competition, but over what, Shiro doesn’t know.

Once Prorok walks through the entryway, Coran pops back out to Shiro’s side with a bright smile. “Well, big guy, what are you feeling so far?”

“Overwhelmed, honestly,” Shiro admits with a nervous laugh. “They all seem pretty nice. It’s a lot to consider.”

“Well, try not to get too turned around! Your next introduction is here!”

The telltale clip-clop of hooves on the ground alerts Shiro to the arrival of his next suitor, a silver-haired man perched regally atop a white horse. Judging from his approach down the driveway, he’s lithe and lean, all delicate features and high cheekbones. He draws the horse to a stop before Shiro with a few clicks of the tongue and hops gracefully down with a cocky smile.

“Shiro,” he purrs on his approach, “you’re even more beautiful in person. I’m Lotor.”

“Hello, Lotor,” Shiro answers with no small amount of amusement. “That’s quite an entrance, there.”

Lotor looks innocently over his shoulder back at the horse. “Oh, this old thing? I just had it hanging around, you know.”

The joke shakes a laugh out of Shiro, which Lotor returns with a bright smile. “Well, Shiro. I’ll see you in there.”

“Yeah, of course. It’s nice to meet you.”

A producer leads the horse off to...somewhere, and directly after that, the next limo pulls up.

The first face to emerge shocks Shiro. He raises an eyebrow as Matt, the brother of one of Shiro’s best friends on the planet, approaches nervously.

“Uh, hey Shiro.”

“Matt. This is a surprise. Katie didn’t tell me you applied.” Shiro knows he’ll be forced to address the fact that they already know each other, although he can’t help the sneaking suspicion that the producers are already well aware of that fact. Television. Always with the drama.

“Yeah, I um. When I found out it was you, I thought it would be worth a shot.” Matt’s feet shuffle beneath him, betraying just how nervous he is, and Shiro decides to take pity on him. It’s a little suspicious that he would wait until Shiro goes on a nationally broadcast show to make a move, but for now he can let that go.

“Well, that’s flattering, Matt.”

“I’m sorry to just, like, throw this at you, but I figured it might be my last chance to actually say something.”

Shiro gets it, he knows it can be terrifying to speak up. “Hey,” he says with a gentle smile. “It’s alright. I’ll see you in there, okay?”

“Yeah, alright,” Matt answers, a rush of gratitude coating the words. “See you.”

He scurries along the sidewalk and out of sight.

Shiro turns back to the limo just in time to watch the door re-open, and _oh. Oh._ The next man to emerge from the vehicle straightens to his full height, and Shiro sucks in a quiet breath. He’s beautiful. A little dark around the edges, made of long, lean lines. He isn’t wearing a full suit, just neatly pressed slacks and a button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up expertly to the elbows. The purple tie looped around his neck complements the deep shade of his eyes, although it’s tough to tell what color they actually are from afar. The man runs a lightly shaking hand through the mop of messy black hair atop his head and strides forward.

When he draws up in front of Shiro, the string lights hung around the trees gleam in his eyes, revealing them to be the most interesting shade of galaxy deep indigo. Up close, his cheekbones are defined and high, perfectly set to run a thumb over. Shiro is struck by the sudden, desperate urge to do just that, and has to clear his throat to break himself from the thought.

It would seem that the man is just as lost as he is, as they both stand there silently, just looking at each other.

“I—uh. I’m Keith,” he says, thrusting a hand out in Shiro’s direction. His voice is low and rough, a natural rumble that hits Shiro right in the chest. The lightest touch of pink spreads across his face, and _holy quiznak,_ he’s so gorgeous. “It’s—I, um. It’s not nice to meet you.”

Wait. What? Shiro frowns. “I’m sorry, did you say it’s not nice to meet me?”

Keith’s blush darkens impossibly. “Ah, fuck. I meant to say it’s nice to meet you. But I was also thinking that you’re not what I expected, and uh. Should I—should I go?” He’s so flustered and precious, his hands shoving themselves deep in his pockets. He’s looking at Shiro’s face still, but his eye contact is just off-center. It gives Shiro a chance to study him without being too creepy about it. The problem with that is, Shiro forgets to answer him. “Okay. Okay, that feels like I should go. I’m just gonna—” he makes to retreat back to the limo before Shiro snaps back to reality.

“No, wait!” Shiro’s arm shoots out to grab him by the shoulder before he realizes what he’s doing and drops his touch. Gratefully, Keith only seizes up a little at the unannounced contact. “Please. Come back here.” Keith turns back around, glancing shyly up at him through long lashes, and Shiro has to fight himself not to physically clutch his chest like some sort of eighteenth century protagonist swooning into the night. He goes for an easy smile and prays that he hits it. “We all goof up sometimes, right? Besides,” he says with a chuckle, “it was pretty funny.”

Keith smiles soft, but still looks a little unconvinced. But now that he’s seen it once, Shiro _needs_ to see that smile again. He needs it like air. He’s gonna do whatever it takes to get it again. Keith takes his spot once again, and Shiro leans forward to put his mouth next to his ear. He doesn’t miss the sharp intake of breath between Keith’s lips, but he does try not to preen at it. “Besides,” he whispers, “it’ll make good television or something, right? A very funny not nice moment.”

His joke startles a laugh out of Keith, and yep. He’s the one. They can all pack up and go home, because as far as Shiro is concerned, he’s done here. He steps back from Keith with a smile. “It’s very nice to meet you, Keith. I hope to see you again soon.”

“Sure,” Keith says quietly. They stand there for another few seconds, staring at each other as if there’s no rush, even though there is absolutelya rush. They’d all like to get to bed before breakfast, after all. Keith must realize this, because he suddenly straightens, looking toward the front door. “Well, bye,” he says, and damn near runs away. It’s a very nice run. He has  _very_ nice legs.

The rest of the limo dumps out unceremoniously, Shiro instantly forgetting the names of the other four occupants. He feels bad about that, but the shock of Zarkon’s words coming true overwhelms the guilt and forces him to lock his thoughts about Keith away. He can’t show preference. If he shows preference, they’ll make him give the rose to somebody else. He really doesn’t want to do that.

After the second limo pulls away, the roaring sound of a jet engine plays through some speakers hidden in the bushes. Shiro cringes at the sudden sound, but forces himself to relax as someone huge and obscured in pilot gear lumbers up the driveway. He must admit, they cut an impressive figure. It’s an extremely Top Gun moment. Shiro is willing to bet that if a shit ton of explosions happened behind the guy, he wouldn’t even turn around.

On his approach, the guy pulls the helmet of the suit off his head, tucking it under an arm and smiling imperiously at Shiro. Something about it hits him the wrong way, sending a feeling of foreboding crawling up his spine. The instincts he’s honed over many years of trials and suffering have never let him down, and Shiro thinks distantly as he offers his hand for a shake that this guy is someone he’ll have to keep an eye on.

Pilot man takes Shiro’s hand, but tugs it up to press a kiss to his knuckles. It’s heavy and kind of wet, and that distant voice in Shiro’s mind helpfully suggests that this might have been better were it Keith pulling this stunt, and _whoa._

“Shiro,” the man murmurs smugly. “I’m Sendak. I heard you like to fly. I think we’d make good co-pilots, don’t you?”

Gross.

“Well, Sendak,” Shiro says with all the diplomatic grace he can muster, “we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

Sendak smirks at that and straightens. “See you inside, hot stuff.”

As he walks away, Shiro watches him in confusion and shock. It’s not until an elbow gently jabs him in the side that he realizes Coran has appeared at his side once again.

“We’re halfway there, Shiro! What do you think so far?”

“Well, there’s definitely a lot of personality here.”

Coran laughs, a belly-deep, highly amused sound. “Some more than others, ehh?”

“Definitely,” Shiro agrees.

“Well, let’s not keep the rest of the men waiting!” Coran waves for the next limo to pull around.

The first man to step out reminds Shiro of Keith in a way. He’s long and lanky, all arms and legs, albeit slightly less graceful. His brown hair is well kept, if a little messy, and he wears a knowing sort of smile.

“Shiro!” he shouts cheerfully as he rushes forward. “It’s so nice to meet you! I read a little about you before we came, and I’m excited to see you in person! I’m Lance.”

“We?” Shiro asks. This is the first time anyone has addressed people other than themselves, and it plucks his curiosity.

“Yeah! Me and Keith!”

That causes Shiro’s eyes to widen. “Keith? As in, the Keith that’s already inside?”

“Yep! Look, don’t tell him I said this, because I’ll deny it until I die, but he’s my best dude. We signed up for the show together. Okay, that’s kind of a lie. It’s more like, I signed him up, and then signed me up so he wouldn’t feel weird about it. And maybe I didn’t tell him until they called us to come actually _do_ the show, but you know how it is.”

He literally does not.

“And the two of you are okay doing this together?” It strikes him as really strange that two guys who claim to be best friends would be willing to compete for the same man. Fortunately, Lance understands what he’s thinking.

“Oh, yeah, man. Look, just because we’re bros doesn’t mean I’m afraid to throw down. It’s kind of our whole deal, anyway. Ol’ Keith and Lance, neck and neck!”

“I—huh,” Shiro says lamely.

“Yeah, I know it’s a lot to take in. I’ll let you do that! See you in there!” And just like that, Lance is gone.

Shiro keeps thinking about it throughout his greeting of the next few contestants—Thace, Rax, and Haxus, he’s happy to report remembering. The final person to step out of the limo is a Scandinavian man named Sven. Something about him seems so familiar to Shiro, but he just can’t put his finger on it. Perhaps if he spends some more time with him, he’ll figure it out.

No matter for it, he thinks, as the clang of a bell interrupts his thoughts. He looks up just in time to see a tiny man riding a bicycle up the drive. He looks nervous, but not in the way of meeting someone new. It’s more like existing makes him uneasy. His eyes dart all over the place, his lips move in silent mutters to himself.

He pulls up on the bike, fully parking it before stepping off and removing the helmet tightly secured to his head. After he has everything situated to his liking—an effort that takes far too much time, in Shiro’s opinion—he scuttles up the walk.

“I am Slav. There are several other universes in which you and I have already met. I daresay there are a few in which we are already arranged in marriage. The statistics may not be to your liking, so I will withhold those.”

Shiro’s eyebrows scrunch together harshly. “I see.”

“No matter! In this universe, I foresee us getting along quite acceptably.”

As if punctuating the truth of his statement, Slav turns and walks directly inside. Shiro laughs to himself over the overt ridiculousness of the interaction. In the same vein, he can’t help but feel irritated at having a complete stranger inform him of his own feelings. Slav, he knows, won’t be lasting very long in the mansion.

Blessedly, the final limo arrives, its occupants making quick work of their introductions. Clark is polite, if not a little bland. Sal, although full of enthusiasm, seems just as beige. Antok is another veteran, large and imposing. Shiro wonders just how the show managed to find so many big guys to meet him. The next person out is yet another solid, if not pleasant seeming guy.

“I’m Hunk,” he says nervously, offering Shiro a single, carefully wrapped muffin. “I made you this. I figured, since this takes forever, and you have to meet a million dudes, you might want a snack? It’s cinnamon streusel.”

Shiro smiles at the gesture. It’s so kind of Hunk to do this for him. He takes the muffin and sniffs it eagerly, shocked by the delicate scent of it. “This smells amazing! Thank you so much, Hunk.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all! I love to bake, so if you ever want more, y’know. Just come see me.”

“I will absolutely do that,” Shiro says, happily taking a bite of the muffin and moaning at the taste. “Oh my god, I will totally do that.”

Hunk smiles brightly at him. “Okay, then. I’ll see you inside!” He takes his leave with a wave, and the final man steps out from the limo.

He’s the silent type, Shiro realizes as they shake hands. It takes several moments for him to get the man’s name ( _“Ryan, but everyone calls me Kinkade”_ ), and after that all Shiro gets is a polite nod before he turns and walks inside. Coran reappears at his side to lead Shiro up to the front door of the mansion.

“There are a lot of very excited men inside this house just chomping at the bit to chat with you, Shiro! Are you ready?” Well, he’s nervous now that Coran’s reminded him of just how many guys are waiting just to talk to him. He’s also a little tired from just the introductions. Coran notices his nerves and smiles. “Just remember that you can take the time you need to get through them. We’re all here for you, after all!”

Yeah, no pressure.

“Okay,” Shiro answers. “Okay.”

They step inside, and nearly immediately Shiro is swarmed. He finds himself pulled in every direction for several hours, each contestant trying their level best to get his attention and stake their claim before he finally has enough and wanders off to find someone _he_ chooses to approach.

He spends a few minutes speaking with Hunk, just to thank him for the muffin and ask about his love of baking. Hunk’s face lights up, overtaking his entire being with a contagious brightness. He speaks at length about his family and the love of food they instilled in him from an early age. They talk for a bit about their favorite dishes, and Hunk makes Shiro promise to let him cook dinner for him at least once, to which Shiro readily agrees.

Next come a few more contestants, arguing over spending time with him, to which he compromises by hanging out with them all at once. It’s no matter, in his opinion. They all seem so similar to each other, and even though he feels guilt over thinking it, he knows they won’t be making it past this first evening. He’s here to find a husband, however, and it’s something he’s going to take seriously.

As one of the men—Andrew, he thinks—launches into another story about a party he went to in college, Shiro looks up just in time to see Keith and Lance wander by, chatting quietly.

“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me,” Shiro blurts, interrupting a tale of a never-ending keg stand. He stands quickly, bolting into the living room to grab the first impression rose from the tray Honerva told him it would be on and run back out to the deck. It takes him some time, dodging guys and getting turned around, until he finally spots them again. The two friends are sprawled across an overstuffed patio sofa, sipping at glasses full of whiskey and laughing together. Lance has his legs propped up on Keith’s lap as he gestures wildly with his glass. They look perfectly comfortable, at home with each other, and Shiro can’t help but watch for a few seconds, imagining himself in Lance’s place. He likes the idea immensely.

With confidence he doesn’t fully have, Shiro strides forward, drawing up short in front of them.

“Keith, could I speak to you for a moment?”

Keith looks up at Shiro, startled. It takes a moment and a not-so-subtle jab in the ribs from Lance before he finally nods and stands, following Shiro to a more private part of the patio. They settle down in front of a roaring fireplace and in lieu of anything else better to say, Shiro clears his throat nervously. “You are...I, um. There’s something—ah.”

“Are you okay?” Keith asks, and he looks so concerned, a worried hand hovering awkwardly in the air between them.

“Hah,” Shiro laughs tightly, and very nearly without humor. “Yeah, I just. I want to give you this.”

He offers up the rose and Keith’s eyes widen impossibly. He reaches for it, but just before his fingers settle on the petals, he looks up again, face full of suspicion. “Are you sure you’re okay? I definitely remember accidentally insulting you.”

Shiro’s laugh is more full this time as he raises his hand to offer the rose again. “And it was a hell of a first impression, don’t you think?”

Keith looks at him for a moment before snorting lightly. “You could say that.”

“It’s fortunate that I did, then, huh?” Shiro says with a smile. “Keith, will you accept this rose?”

Keith returns the smile, his face brightening beautifully. “Yes, of course I will. Thank you, Shiro.”

“No,” Shiro answers, pinning the rose to Keith’s chest. “Thank you.”

“Hey there, fellas,” a new voice interrupts, shaking them out of their moment. Turning toward the source of the sound, Shiro finds Rolo leaned against one of the many doorways from the mansion to the extensive patio. He looks impatient, which Shiro thinks is pretty fair, considering he’s already given out a rose for the evening. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could steal you for a bit, Shiro.”

Shiro opens his mouth to ask him to wait a tick, but Keith beats him to it. “Yeah, you know what, we’ve been out here for a while. I’m gonna go get a drink.”

Shiro doesn’t get a chance to protest as Keith disappears inside, leaving him to suffer through Rolo’s onslaught of information about himself and his hobbies. Several more interruptions are made throughout the evening before Adam breaks through, pulling him away from an extremely uncomfortable moment wherein Sendak insists upon offering Shiro a massage to ‘release his obvious tension.’

Blessedly, Adam doesn’t try any of the moves everyone else has tried so far. Rather, he tugs him out onto the lawn toward a blanket spread out across the grass.

“I thought you might want a moment away. You seemed like you needed some breathing room.” He gestures to the blanket. “You wanna sit?”

Shiro smiles at the genuine kindness. “Yes, I’d love to.”

They settle down on the blanket and looks up at the stars, chatting about their shared love of space and the stars. A few blessed minutes of peace pass while they point out their favorite constellations before a couple more men manage to find them. This time, it’s James and Kinkade, settling down on the blanket alongside Shiro and Adam.

“You know,” James says conversationally, “Kinkade here and I were both at the Garrison while you were still a pilot.”

Shiro startles at that, looking around Adam between the two of them. He doesn’t remember them in the slightest. Although, to be fair, he doesn’t remember much about that time of his life. He admits as much to them.

“That’s alright,” Kinkade answers. “We were only cadets, and that must have been a traumatizing time for you.”

Shiro rarely talks about the failed mission to Kerberos, the rocket that took down their plane, the loss of his arm. Still, he appreciates the candor and consideration. “Yeah, it was.”

“Well, now that I’ve introduced my big-ass foot to my big-ass mouth, I think maybe I’ll leave you alone,” James mutters sheepishly.

“I’ll come with,” Kinkade agrees. They stand and head inside, leaving Shiro to his thoughts. It takes a few seconds for the realization to sink in that he’s actually alone. He looks around at the area around him, empty of all signs of life, with the exception of Honerva, marching in his direction with a look of determination on her face.

“Well,” she greets without preamble, plunking herself down on the blanket beside him. “You sure have a knack for totally ignoring our suggestions, huh?”

“What?” Shiro doesn’t remember breaking any rules so far. He’s called it his journey, he hasn’t told anyone he loves them, he hasn’t sent anyone home before the rose ceremony. So, what is it he’s done wrong?

“You remember that time we explicitly asked you not to give your favorite the first impression rose?”

Oh. That.

“Oh. That,” he says intelligently.

“Yes. That. Well, now we need to come up with some sort of compromise for the rest of the contestants.”

Shiro snaps his head around to look at her. He has such a bad feeling about this. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to take them, of course, but we have some suggestions.” Honerva offers him her hand and leads him to a room of the mansion he never noticed before. Inside, she and the other producers have each roseless contestant’s photo pinned up on the wall, 24 men’s faces lined up in neat little rows. It feels a little bit like they’re narrowing down job candidates, which, okay. Maybe that’s not too far off. “So, we think you should keep these ones.”

It takes some arguing and pleading, but eventually Shiro decides who to give his roses to. Coran meets him in the hall, and leads him to the dining room in which his decisions will be rendered. Considering this is a show all about finding love, he tends to think that they refer to everything in oddly clinical language. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it.

Still, it’s so early in the morning, everyone (including himself) is exhausted, and he’s got a job to do. Coran introduces him to the room of bachelors, and he strides in, carefully ensuring to keep his gaze from immediately flicking over to Keith standing in the front with is rose pinned to his chest.

It takes almost two hours to hand out the roses in between pausing to reset cameras and remind Shiro of everyone’s names, but eventually, each rose is handed out. He steps back to the front of the room for the departures of his first rounds of cuts. Andrew, Clark, Thomas, Jared, and Slav are all sent home with minimal fuss. At this stage of the game, there isn’t much at risk. Truth be told, sending people home based off of five minutes of interaction is really weird to do, but he supposes this show is essentially a really big game of speed dating.

At the end of it all, the sun is fully up, illuminating the dining room with warm morning light as he stands in the center of the group of 20 remaining men. They all raise glasses of champagne and toast to a good journey.

“Thank you all so much for starting this journey with me. It means a lot that anyone would do this. I’m so glad you’re here.” His gaze finds Keith, and he can just _feel_ Honerva’s sigh of annoyance from the control room.

No matter.

He knows what he wants.


	2. Week One: Group Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *wanders in four months late with two starbucks cups and a limp*
> 
> hey, remember when i started this story ages ago and then ran away into the middle distance? yeah, me too. i apologize for the ridiculously long wait, i really didn't intend for it to take so long. to make up for it, i hope you enjoy this extremely long, detail-filled chapter.
> 
> much in the way of the real bachelor, we're slogging through a LOT of contestants right now, but it'll get lighter soon!
> 
> i hope you enjoy, it's good to see you again!

Shiro likes to think that he’s a patient man. He likes to think he can take all sorts of surprises and curveballs and do whatever it takes to adapt and succeed, to rise above it all.

Now, pinching the bridge of his nose and glaring down at the paper in his hand, he’s not so sure of that.

“I know this seems—”

“Like a massive joke at my expense?” he cuts Honerva off.

“I was going to go for kitschy,” she replies patiently, “but fair enough.”

Shiro sets the call sheet down on the bed and sighs. An RC airplane flight class as a group date does not appeal to him in the least. He takes his career and history seriously, and to have it reduced to something like a punchline hits him in the heart in a bad way.

“But,” Honerva continues, raising her eyebrows conspiratorially, “I think you’ll enjoy the group going with you.”

She hands him another sheet of paper, a list of everyone’s headshots. He glances over the names: Blaytz, Prorok, Rax, Rolo, Sendak, James, Bii-Boh-Bi, Ryan, and _oh._ Keith is on the first group date. Good. That’s good. Shiro wouldn’t mind seeing him in the light of day. Or the light of the moon. Or the light of a bathroom. Any light, really.

“Shiro,” Honerva sighs, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “You can’t keep doing this.”

“Sorry,” he answers sheepishly. Glancing back over at the names on the list, he does see why the producers think this is a good group of people to take on a competitive style date. There are some really strong personalities on the list, from what he can remember of intro night. At the very least, he knows a few of them in one place will make for good television.

“Now, there are a few things we need from you,” she says, sipping daintily from a fresh cup of espresso. “First, you absolutely _cannot_ give the rose to Keith. I already saw the wheels in your head turning when you saw his name. You can’t just give him the rose every time you see him. Realistically, you don’t even know the guy. You just think he’s pretty.”

Shiro opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it just as quickly. She’s right, after all. Keith is exactly Shiro’s type, and Shiro didn’t even know he had one until seeing him. Maybe his type is just Keith. Is that a thing? He’s unsure.

“Also, you have to spend equal time with all of the men on this date. You don’t necessarily have to make it _good_ time. Just time.”

“What does that even mean?”

“You’ll know it when you do it. Now! We have exactly two hours before we need to go meet the men, so clean up, eat some food, and I’ll see you soon.” She sets her cup down on his dinner table and swishes away before he even knows what’s going on, and just like that, Shiro finds himself alone. There’s nothing but two sheets of paper and his building nerves to accompany him.

He orders toast.

The drive to the airfield is quiet, although Zarkon stares Shiro down like he expects words to just come tumbling out. He knows they’re supposed to. He was informed in no uncertain terms that any time a camera was aimed directly at him, he was to be speaking to that camera.

“I, um.” Zarkon’s gaze is intense, and once Shiro begins to speak, it dials in even further. “Uh, well, we’re on our way to an airfield for a...really...cool...date. We’re going to fly planes.”

Zarkon closes his eyes and takes a deep breath in. It’s obvious that he wishes he could inflict bodily harm on his show’s contestants, and honestly, Shiro wonders why he even does a show like this if he seems to hate it so much.

“As astute as that observation was, Shiro,” Honerva responds kindly (Zarkon’s face softens impossibly as he regards her while she speaks, and _ah,_ Shiro realizes, _that’s why_ ), “can you give us a little more to work with? What do you think about flying an RC plane compared to a real one?”

“Well, I mean, I’ve never flown an RC plane before, so it’ll be something new,” he laughs awkwardly. “At the very least, the only thing I can mess up is my pride.”

Honerva laughs graciously at his joke, but Zarkon seems unimpressed at best.

“Yes, well, let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

The limo rolls smoothly down the runway once they arrive. Shiro thinks it a little unnecessary to shut down an entire airfield just for this, but hey, he isn’t paying the bills. Maybe they’ll let him poke around a little before they start filming. He’s always found smaller fields charming. They were some of his first experiences with flight altogether, and they’ll always be a little nostalgic for him because of that.

They come to a stop, and before he can step out of the car, Shiro takes a look at the bachelors gathered around in the middle of the field. They’re all looking at the limo, waiting for him to make his grand exit, but all Shiro can do is seek out a particular head of wild, black hair. At the back of the pack, standing awkwardly with his arms crossed over his chest, is Keith. He’s wearing aviators, and Shiro can’t decide if it’s funny or endearing.

“Alright, big fella,” Coran pipes up. Shiro forgot he was even in the limo, for all that Honerva had control of the conversation. Coran’s lip quirks. “Are you ready to get this date in the air?”

Shiro can’t help the smile and eye roll as he answers. “Let’s do it.”

Coran smiles back and throws open the door, brightness flooding the cabin of the car. They step out, and Shiro squints into the sunlight until his eyes focus.

“Let’s go see your dates!”

Coran leads Shiro over to where the men are all gathered around a line of several remote control airplanes. They’re much larger than Shiro had assumed they would be, and the details are rather intricate and impressive for foam-based models.

“Good morning, everybody!” Coran greets the crowd of men jovially. They greet back with just as much enthusiasm, for the most part. Keith remains in his closed off stance, slightly tense, as his eyes roam between the planes and Shiro. Sendak watches Keith through narrowed eyes, occasionally glancing at Shiro’s face before returning. Bii-Boh-Bi...well, Shiro can’t quite tell what he’s doing or how he’s feeling through as much as he squirms around in place.

“Welcome to the very first group date!” Coran continues. Everyone cheers at the sentiment. “Today, we’re going to see if your connection with Shiro has what it needs to take to the sky!” The men watch on eagerly as a new person walks toward them down the runway. “Today, you’ll be flying planes with the best of them!” Shiro smothers an eye roll as the man nears them in time for Coran to gesture to him in a grand sweep of his arm. “This is Commander Iverson!”

“Please, just call me Mitch. Commander was some time ago.”

“Sure thing, Mitch. Now, Mitch here is an expert at flying these bad boys, so he’s going to put you all through your paces before letting you take flight! Commander, if you will!”

Coran disappears, and Mitch takes over, explaining the controls for each plane and the best way to treat them. He goes over the basics of RC flight, and once he’s done, he offers a controller up to Shiro.

“Since you’re the Bachelor and you have flight experience, I think you should take first crack. Show these fellas how it’s done, yeah?”

Shiro is nervous as all hell of embarrassing himself, but he’s never been one to back down from a challenge. He takes the controller gingerly from Mitch’s hand and squares himself up, maneuvering the plane down a small section of the runway.

“Fantastic! Now, nudge it into the air just like I showed you.”

Shiro does as told, barely pressing one of the joysticks on the controller forward, laughing in delight as the plane takes off. Sure, it’s no fighter jet, but something about flying a plane again lights his insides up with a joy he thought he’d never feel again. He smiles and watches as the plane gains altitude, floating easily through the air.

“Okay, now, bring it back around like I showed you and set ‘er down.”

Shiro does his best to remember the exact way Mitch showed them to turn and land the plane, but he forgets a step, he’s pretty certain, because suddenly, the plane takes a nosedive directly for the ground, bouncing impressively high once it tastes dirt. Shiro sheepishly turns his face away, offering the controller back up to Mitch.

“Yes, well,” the man says gruffly, accepting it quickly, “we can’t all be naturals at everything, eh?”

The group of men, Shiro included, laugh at his embarrassment. To be fair, flying a remote control plane is nothing at all like the real thing, and the joysticks on the controller are really quite small. Shiro’s thumbs engulfed the entirety of the things. He decides to blame his clumsiness on that.

Honerva calls cut to filming, and has the crew reset so she can grab a set of cue cards.

“Alright, Mitch. I’m just going to have you start again like we never stopped, but you’re going to split the guys up into teams for us and send them on their way. You think you can read these out?”

“I am familiar with reading, yes.”

“Excellent!”

A few set hands arrange everyone where they’re needed, and Honerva calls action again.

“Alright, so now that we’ve seen Shiro’s impressive crash, it’s your turn, boys! I’ll be splitting you up into two flight crews. Your job is to work together to fly your plane. The team with the best flying as determined by Shiro and myself win a special date night with your Bachelor. Think you can all handle that?”

Each contestant agrees, and Honerva flips her cue cards.

“Alright, then. Team one will be the following men: Keith, James, Hunk, Kinkade, Blaytz.”

Shiro watches carefully as they all gather on one side of the planes.

“That leaves Prorok, Rolo, Sendak, Rax, and Bii-Boh-Bi for team two. You’ll each get thirty minutes to practice together and develop a strategy as a team, after which we’ll begin your flights. Good luck, men. Begin!”

Shiro and Mitch watch carefully as each team coalesces around their planes, fiddling with the controllers and chattering about what they should do.

Already, Shiro can see tentative friendships are beginning to form. Hunk and Kinkade of team one are already getting along well, chatting easily about flight strategies and who should control the plane. The controller finds Kinkade’s hands, and at Hunk’s direction, the plane flies smoothly, performing a few perfect maneuvers. It’s enough to grab Shiro’s attention, so he makes his way over to them first.

“How’s it going, guys? Looks like things are going pretty well for you.”

The rest of the team watches on warily while they fiddle with their own practice planes as the three talk, not moving to interrupt.

“It’s going great, actually!” Hunk replies brightly. “Did you know Kinkade here went to the Garrison?”

Shiro smiles brightly at Ryan. “I did, actually. We’ve spoken a bit about it already.”

“Well, between you and me,” Hunk continues, “I almost think it’s unfair we get him. The other team won’t know what hit ‘em!”

Shiro laughs at the confidence. “No, I’m sure they won’t.” He turns his attention to Kinkade. “You know, I don’t think you ever told me exactly what you did at the Garrison. Just that you were a cadet.”

Kinkade chuckles a bit. “Yeah. I was, I think, four or five years behind you? You were already flying by the time I went down the pilot track. You were a legend. Although, I was always more impressed by your attitude instead of your skills.”

“Oh, really?” Shiro asks in genuine surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Mmm,” Kinkade pauses to choose his words. “You were always kind to everyone. You didn’t hold your skills above anyone else’s. That’s rare for someone with real talent. You knew you were good, but you didn’t think that made you important. I’ve always respected that about you.”

That gives Shiro pause. Kinkade hardly looks ruffled by the admission, but it warms Shiro to his very core. To think that someone noticed something like that about him and _appreciated_ it is more than he could hope for. He always prided himself on being approachable, so to hear it being confirmed feels nice.

“It helps that you’re handsome,” Kinkade adds, just as cool as ever. Shiro splutters in his general direction and he laughs warmly, clapping Shiro on the shoulder. “Relax, there, Captain.” Shiro can’t take it, he’s gotta go.

“Well, I’m gonna. I’m gonna just”—he gestures to rest of the men—“I’m gonna go check on everyone else. It was good talking to you two.”

Shiro beelines away toward team two, but he’s not far enough away to miss Hunk hissing, “He didn’t talk to _us_ , just to _you._ ” It sounds like an accusation, but Shiro can’t force himself to double back.

His attention is caught by Rax and Bii-Boh-Bi arguing over the controller for their plane.

“You’re not listening to me, dude, you can’t just fling the shit all over the sky and hope for the best!” Rax growls through clenched teeth.

Bii-Boh-Bi only ignores him, taking over the controller and sending their plane into an easy backflip. Shiro decides to just...leave that whole thing alone for the moment. Instead, he turns in the opposite direction to find Rolo and Sendak aggressively practicing side by side. Sendak has control of the remote while Rolo smugly informs him of all the ways he’s screwing up his flight.

“No way, man. You’ll never impress him if you do the same boring tricks.”

“I don’t need tricks to impress him!”

“You sure about that?”

“ _I_ don’t think anyone needs tricks to impress me,” Shiro interrupts, capturing both their attention. They scramble into a more presentable facade as Shiro approaches, hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. “Show me what you’ve got, guys.”

Sendak raises a challenging eyebrow to Rolo, who steps out of the way and gestures for him to fly first.

“That’s what I thought. Believe me, Shiro, I think you’ll find my skills to be impressive.” The smarm that drips like acid from his words is what’s truly impressive.

“I’m sure they’re just fine, Sendak. Fly for me?” Sendak rises to the bait, sending the plane zipping all over the place. It’s a good flight, all things considered, but when Shiro remembers that Bii-Boh-Bi managed a backflip with no fanfare, he finds himself just a little let down. Still, he has to throw the guy a bone. Otherwise, he thinks Sendak might just throw a punch at Rolo. “Very nice, Sendak.” Sendak preens at the compliment. “Rolo, you wanna show me your skills?”

“Nah,” Rolo answers with a smirk. “I want to save it for when it counts.”

“Oh, of course! Don’t want to reveal those secrets, huh?”

“Only when they matter. Gotta have some surprises for you, right?”

“Sure,” Shiro agrees and turns away, rolling his eyes as soon as he’s certain neither man can see his face. If things keep going as they are, he’s gonna have to get rid of these clowns and _soon._

Shiro checks in on Blaytz and Prorok. They fly their plane in a clumsily earnest way, but they’re both so passive about interacting. It’s a little bland, and Shiro finds his attention wandering away more than once when he catches Keith in his peripheral vision. He and James have several heated exchanges over the course of the few minutes Shiro spends spying, and he can’t help feeling concerned. He excuses himself politely to wander over and check them out.

The environment around the two is tense, air thick with some sort of heat Shiro can’t entirely pin down. Keith is flying the plane as Shiro makes his approach, and he’s _incredible._ His flight pattern is smooth, and he even manages a few cool tricks with the plane. James stares at him hard, like a puzzle he can’t totally figure out. It sends a sort of angry heat spreading across Shiro’s skin. He doesn’t appreciate the stare.

Shiro clears his throat, grabbing their attention. “Hey, guys.”

“Shiro! Hello!” a startled James answers, voice a little higher pitched than natural. Keith lands the plane with ease.

“Hey, Shiro. It’s nice to see you again.” His voice is even, leaning toward toneless. There’s something a little bit off about it, but Shiro doesn’t know him well enough yet to completely pin down what it is. In time, he’ll figure it out. For now, he smiles down at the other man.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”

James sets a hand on Keith’s elbow, and Shiro can’t help but track the movement like a hawk.

“Keith here was just going all braggy about his flying. Shut him up real quick when you got here.”

Shiro raises his eyebrow. “Is that right?”

Keith tugs his elbow away from James’ touch. “No, it isn’t. All I said was it was easier than it looked. I said it was pretty fun.”

“Of course you did, sweetheart.”

The retort sets Shiro’s blood boiling. It’s far too intimate and just a shade off condescending, but Keith doesn’t respond, instead averting his eyes. His ears go pink, and oh. Maybe that’s what Keith is into? Maybe Shiro had this situation read completely wrong. Maybe the arguments and sharp words aren’t friction. Maybe it’s attraction.

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” Keith huffs.

“Ah, that’s more of a privacy sort of pet name, huh?”

Shiro’s chest goes cold.

“Alright, everyone!” Mitch calls from the head of the field. “Time to get this show on the road!”

All the men gather around with Shiro at their center, listening intently as Iverson describes the rules of the competition. Each team must take turns as each member flies their plane on a set course. Iverson and Shiro will grade their flights, and at the end, the team with the most points wins.

Shiro’s already fairly certain which team will win.

“Alright, fellas. Remember, the team with the best combined score wins. James, if you’ll go first!”

Iverson claps his hands, and James takes his place. His flight is clean and technically adept, if not a little boring for lack of tricks. Shiro can tell he’s trying to impress through precision, which is fair enough. Still, he likes a little flair. Iverson points James’s lack of style and he agrees.

Prorok flies next, very much the same, although his turns are a little more aggressive than is perhaps necessary.

Hunk follows, flying in large loops and soft arcs. His flight is almost comforting with how flowy it is, and Shiro enjoys it very much.

Next is Rax, who bobbles a bit on his takeoff and landing, but ultimately pulls off a nice flight.

Following him is Blaytz, who flies terrifyingly similar to the way Prorok had, although with a much brighter demeanor about him.

Bii-Boh-Bi steps forward on his turn, and manages to turn out an extremely complicated and very nearly confusing performance. Shiro gives him high marks for the sheer balls it takes alone.

Kinkade’s flight is beautiful. It’s concentrated and precise, but still incorporates exciting tricks executed perfectly. Shiro loses himself to the performance of it, a small smile spreading across his face as the plane land easily on the ground.

Sendak’s face is terrifying as he walks to the flight mark for his turn. Shiro has to keep himself from physically recoiling at the furrow in his brow and fire in his eyes. His flying is just as overpowered as his personality. He takes turns sharply, pulls tricks quickly and without mercy, attacking them with single-minded ferocity.

Keith flies next, and it’s difficult for Shiro not to look too excited. He knows he’s failed when Honerva swoops through the background just to throw him an annoyed look. Keith takes his position, grasps the controller, and...flies. It’s a good flight, a great one even, but it’s nothing like Shiro would have expected from him. Something about the way Keith exists just hums with energy. He’s got an intensity about him that isn’t domineering so much as it is focused, but this flight just doesn’t reflect that. Shiro looks over to Keith’s face while he brings the plane in and, oh. Keith is looking slightly upward, bottom lip pinched between his teeth in concentration. The sunlight hits his face just right, glancing off his sharp cheekbones. His skin looks warm and nearly shimmering, although that could be television makeup for all Shiro knows.

What matters is Keith looks beautiful and Shiro is lost.

“It’s our final participant!” Iverson shouts, clapping his hands together again and startling Shiro out of his reflection.

Rolo steps up, cocky smirk on his face. “I hope you’re ready for this, Shiro. This one’s for you!”

Shiro nods graciously in acknowledgement and braces himself for whatever happens next.

Which is a crash.

A big, beautiful, loud crash.

The plane takes off evenly, gliding up to gain altitude, and then just as it takes a turn for a roll, something happens. It’s hard to tell what from the distance he stands away, but it’s truly not pertinent. All Shiro knows is that one moment, the plane is in the air, and the next, it’s not. And there’s smoke rising from the carcass in the aftermath. Rolo stares down at the controller in betrayal, spluttering and groaning. It’s so, so very hard for Shiro not to laugh.

In the end, Team One wins by a narrow margin. Team Two is sent home to the mansion to stay, while the rest are told to freshen up and dress for a night on the town.

They end up at a rooftop bar, the type that’s all hung up in string lights with fluffy ferns dripping from every vertical surface. It may be set dressing, now that Shiro thinks about it, but he’s hard pressed to care all that much. The point is, it makes a nice backdrop to get to know everyone a little better, which is what Shiro intends to do.

Each man’s personality began to make itself more pronounced throughout the course of the day, and there are some threads Shiro is very much looking forward to teasing out.

“Okay, Shiro,” Honerva preps him as they approach, “what’s the rule?”

“Uh,” Shiro answers eloquently. He panics a bit, because he can’t remember the rule. That’s not accurate, there are so, _so_ many rules, and he remembers all of them. But he knows there’s a specific rule she’s looking for, and he’s not totally certain what rule that is. So it’s time to guess. “Don’t call it a process?”

“No,” she says with a patient smile. “Try again.”

Okay, if it’s not that one, then, “Oh! Don’t cover the microphone!”

“Again, not quite.”

“Then I don’t—”

“Don’t favor Keith.”

“That’s a rule?”

“Has been for a little while now, glad you noticed.”

“But, why? I—”

“Like him. I know, Shiro.” Honerva sighs. “Do you know why we always tell contestants not to pursue just one person throughout the course of the show?”

Shiro barely even thinks about that one. He knows the answer. “Because it makes bad television.”

“Correct. After a while, everyone — and I do mean everyone — begins to wonder why we’re all here. All your interactions become contractual obligations and we don’t want that. Besides, that’s not fair to everyone else here, wouldn’t you agree?”

Shiro grimaces. Of course it’s not fair. They all put their lives on pause to be here, and yeah, some of them aren’t here for him, Shiro’s not stupid, but it’s still a huge commitment to make. The least he owes them is an equal shot. Even if that equal shot detracts from Keith. And who knows? Maybe he’ll make some friends, or find something he never even knew he was looking for? It’s cliche, but worth the effort.

“Yeah,” he admits. “I agree.”

“Good,” Honerva says with a light smile and a pat to his forearm. “It’s not forever, Shiro. If he sticks around, you’ll get more time, but for now, we really need you to at least _try_ with some of the other men. Even if some of them are...less than desirable.”

“You mean Sendak.”

“I mean Sendak.”

They pause in their amusement as the limo approaches the front of the building. One of Honerva’s assistants wears a walkie talkie that immediately starts blaring directions and details. Honerva ignores it, instead dragging Shiro from the limo and straight to the elevators to the roof.

The door to the rooftop opens, and there stand five men, dressed sharply in suits and ties, although Keith is noticeably jacketless. It’s casual and effortless without trying too hard to seem so, and Shiro can’t help but find his eyes drawn to the his forearms.

Honerva directs everyone to sit around a large, U-shaped couch so they can get the opening shot for the segment. It takes multiple tries to get the footage, because each time they reset, James and Keith end up picking at each other. Either James is making snide comments about Keith’s hair, or Keith is “accidentally” elbowing James in the side as he reaches to adjust it, or they’re both just doing something dumb to irritate the other. By the end of it all, Shiro is supremely annoyed and resolves to ignore them both until they grow up a little.

It’s hard, though, when they just keep picking at each other over and over.

Eventually, Shiro leaves them by the bar and asks Hunk, Kinkade, and Blaytz to join him on the couch for a while. It’s comfortable and easy, just the four of them chatting amicably about nothing in particular. It’s the kind of small talk you employ at a cocktail party when you’re unsure of whether or not you actually like a person, but it’s nice. For once, Shiro doesn’t feel the heavy pressure of being The Bachelor. Instead, he’s just him. Just Shiro.

Until Honerva announces that it’s time for Shiro to start pulling everyone aside for their individual conversations.

With sweating palms, Shiro asks Blaytz to be the first. He goes easily enough.

“So, tell me a little about yourself,” Shiro prompts, once they reach a table near the handrails at the edge of the roof.

“Well, there’s not much to tell, really. I was born in a small town, I joined the military for a bit to pay for college, and now I’m here.”

“You were in the military?”

Blaytz huffs a laugh. “Nothing as exciting as a pilot or anything. I was just a comms officer. But it was alright. Nothing too exciting. But tell me about yourself! What’s a guy like you doing on a show like this?” He gestures around to the camera crew and set assistants milling about the place. “Between you and me,” he goes on in a whisper, “I feel like you’ve got a leg up on something like this.”

Shiro laughs and Blaytz leans back with an accomplished smile.

“You know, I’m not too sure why I decided to say yes. I think I wanted the adventure. A little bit of something new and scary.”

“Well, you know, I could just take you sky diving instead. Call this whole thing now.” Blaytz is earnest and confident as he speaks. His body language is open and joyful, and before Shiro knows it, he finds himself swept up in the power of the other man’s personality. They talk hobbies and favorite sports right up until Honerva gives him his cue to go and grab another guy. He thanks Blaytz for his time, and spins around to decide who to grab next.

Just as he does, he catches sight of Keith leaning back on the bar with a drink in his hand. James stands beside him with a drink of his own and he leans in close to Keith to say something. Keith pushes him away by the shoulder, but his hand lingers, squeezing momentarily as he says something else. Shiro’s hands curl into fists. He turns away and finds Hunk and Kinkade, still on the couch and talking.

“But it’s the _environment_ of the yeast that matters, you know?” Hunk is saying excitedly as Kinkade listens in rapt silence. “The same starter can be used on both coasts, but the bread will always come out radically different! I’m tellin’ ya, man. It’s magic.”

“Magic,” Kinkade repeats quietly.

“I love magic,” Shiro clumsily adds. Hunk and Kinkade both look up to him, surprised to see him standing at their side. He didn’t realize they were quite so taken with their conversation, and now he feels a little bad for interrupting. “I’m sorry to bust in. I can, uh, leave you to it if you want.”

“No way, dude!” Hunk argues. “Everyone should participate in a little yeast appreciation every now and again.”

“Well, in that case, why don’t we chat for a bit? You can tell me all about it.” Shiro gestures to the one-on-one table. Hunk turns a little red but stands from his seat.

“Yeah, man, of course! Let’s uh, let’s talk yeast.”

“We don’t really have to talk about yeast if you don’t want to,” Shiro says as they sit. “You just seemed like you were kind of in a groove there and I didn’t want to break it up.”

“Oh no,” Hunk laughs, waving a meaty hand between them. “It’s totally okay. Ryan let me get most of it out.”

“Oh, it’s Ryan, huh?” Shiro teases, leaning forward and raising an eyebrow as he settles his chin in his hand. “Is there something I should know, Hunk?”

Hunk turns bright red at that, scuttling back in his chair. “Oh my god, no way. I wouldn’t do that! He just knows a _lot_ about yeast and fermentation, and I gotta be honest with ya, it’s been so long since I’ve been able to talk fermentation with anyone who cares. _So long, Shiro._ ”

“Well, I may not know much, but you’re always welcome to talk yeast with me.”

Hunk smiles. “Thanks.”

“Hey, uh, do you mind if I interrupt?” When Shiro looks up to the new voice, he finds James at his shoulder, arms crossed over his chest. “I’d like to get a turn with you, Shiro, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, um.”

“Yeah, that’s totally fine!” Hunk blurts. “We’ve talked enough about the important things tonight.”

He shoots Shiro a wink and takes off toward Kinkade once more. Shiro watches him go momentarily before James clears his throat and snaps him out of it.

“Can I?” James gestures to the seat across from Shiro.

“Oh, yeah, I’m so sorry, of course.”

James nods and sits, settling his chin in the palm of his hand. He sits there, silently appraising Shiro for a moment. A moment turns into two, turns into a few, turns into Shiro awkwardly looking over James’s shoulder for something to fixate on in order to distract himself from squirming in his seat.

“Um.”

“Oh my god!” James yelps, snapping out of his daze. “I’m sorry. I just, you’re right here, and _I’m_ right here, and I got caught up in my head there for a second. I didn’t even think about what I would say when I came over here, honestly. I just was over there with Keith, watching you talk to all the other guys, and I knew I needed to come say something.”

A flare of irritation runs through Shiro at hearing Keith’s name roll off of James’ lips, but again, he shoves it down.

“You and Keith are spending a lot of time together today.”

“Are we?” James almost looks surprised that Shiro pointed it out. Almost. “I mean, I dunno, man. There’s something about him that just gets under my skin, you know? I’m trying to figure him out.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow at that.

“And what have you figured?”

Truthfully, he’d like a little insight himself.

“Nothing!” James exclaims, throwing his hands up in frustration. “The guy’s a brick wall. I can’t even tell why he’s here in the first place.”

“And why are _you_ here in the first place, James?” Shiro’s annoyance bleeds into his tone.

“To meet you, of course.”

Well, he has a funny way of showing it.

“And how’s that been so far?”

“It’s been alright, I think. What about you?” James leans in closer, his eyes bright and shining. “How’s meeting me been?”

Shiro thinks about it for a moment. He wants to say tiring, but that’s not it, entirely. Sure, he’s already developing a worrying jealousy streak nearly a mile wide, but that’s not James’s fault. That’s on him. If he really thinks about it, James is just eager to impress. He seems eager to impress more than just Shiro, which is concerning, but it’s a concern for later. For now—

“Interesting.”

James seems pleased enough with the answer. He looks up past Shiro, where someone must be waiting, because his eyes dart away quickly and he shoves his chair back carelessly. “Welp, it looks like my time is up. I’ll see you soon, Shiro.”

Shiro watches him walk away, passing a waiting Kinkade with a pat on the shoulder. Kinkade says something under his breath, sparking a loud laugh from James. He smiles in return and heads in Shiro’s direction.

“Don’t tell James I told you this, but you looked like you were praying for death.”

The statement startles a sharp laugh out of Shiro.

“Don’t worry, though,” he adds, leaning forward. “I told him, too.”

Shiro can’t help but laugh again. Kinkade smiles at him as he takes a seat.

“So, how’s your day been?”

“Well, let’s see. I woke up early, panicked, ate some toast, flew a plane that was surprisingly hard to fly, panicked a little again, and now we’re here.”

“Wait, the only thing you’ve eaten all day is toast?” Ryan asks, voice dripping in concern.

“At least Hunk would approve,” Shiro weakly jokes.

Ryan indulges it with a smile, but then stands, reaching out to Shiro. “No wonder you looked like you were ready for a swift execution. Let’s go get some food.”

Shiro pauses, eyeballing the hand held out in his direction, but then decides, _eh, fuck it,_ and takes it. Ryan’s hand is warm and soft, softer than Shiro had expected. It fits his smoothly, nearly the exact same size as his own, although his fingers are a tad longer. They both glance down at their joined hands quickly, smothering equal smiles.

In a show of dominance, Shiro’s stomach growls loudly between them. Ryan startles at the sound, but then huffs a quiet laugh and drags Shiro toward the bar.

“C’mon. I think they had some cheese sticks or something. You’re not a no carb man, are you?”

“At this point, I’ll take anything you give me,” Shiro admits, earning another quiet laugh for his trouble. They pull up to the bar, where, in a strike of fortuitous television luck, two glass containers of artfully arranged cheese sticks await them.

“Well, would you look at that,” Ryan says. “The universe provides.”

The universe. Sure.

Shiro glances over his shoulder to find Honerva watching them like a hawk, two cameras aimed their way from different angles.

“So,” Shiro prompts after taking down all five of his sticks, “tell me about yourself.”

“Hmm, okay. Well, I’m Ryan. I’m a Virgo. My favorite color is green. I like long walks on the beach and spending time with my family.” Shiro can’t tell from his tone if he’s joking or not, but he decides to go along with it anyway.

“And yeast.”

It’s Kinkade’s turn for a startled laugh.

“And yeast.”

They spend more time talking, and throughout it all, Ryan stands out more than he ever did. He’s calm and serious in tone, but it seems to Shiro like Ryan is a calm sort of person altogether. His presence is grounding in a way that Shiro hasn’t felt in quite some time.

They grew up similarly, children to parents of a studious but loving nature, allowed to explore their dreams and make the most of them. Ryan took more interest in scientific pursuits outside of school, where Shiro was always more athletic, but everything they talk about together is interesting in its own right. Shiro finds himself hooked by every tidbit Ryan offers up.

Eventually he looks to his watch and realizes that almost an hour has passed, somehow, without interruption. Before he can doubt himself, Shiro stands abruptly. Ryan’s brows crinkle at the sudden outburst, but they smooth themselves out quickly.

“I’ll be right back.”

Shiro strides directly to the table in front of the couch, scooping up the date rose awaiting him on a gold tray. His hand shakes as he draws it to himself for inspection, and suddenly, he realizes that it’s gone totally silent around him. He looks up, gazing around, only to find each of the other men’s eyes locked on him already.

Of course they are. He’s about to award the prize, and they each want it.

Before he turns back to present his token, he catches sight of Keith’s face, looking confused from where he sits. It hits him, then, that he hasn’t spoken to the man all night. His initial instinct is to chide himself for not spending equal time with each contestant, but at the same time, Keith didn’t seem to miss him all that much, what with James around.

He’s really going to need to get to the bottom of that.

But first.

Shiro looks back to the bar, to where he left Ryan, and finds Ryan already watching him in return. His face is unreadable, but there’s a shimmer to his eyes that tells Shiro he might already know what’s going on. He smiles lightly, the barest quirk of his lip, as Shiro returns slowly, settling back down on his bar stool.

“So, uh, you come here often?” Ryan laughs loud at Shiro’s attempt at humor, a booming, musical laugh, and Shiro smiles in return. He holds the rose up between them. “I’m sorry I ran off like that, I had to grab something.” Ryan looks at it momentarily and nods, urging Shiro on. “I really enjoyed getting to know you today. I had a good time talking to you, and I’d like to keep doing that.”

Ryan smiles. “Me too.”

“It doesn’t hurt that you’re handsome,” Shiro jokes, holding up the rose. “So, Ryan, will you accept this rose?”

“Yes, I will,” he answers softly, leaning forward to allow Shiro to pin it to his lapel.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you. I really appreciate this, Shiro.”

“Well, gentlemen!” Coran announces, suddenly popping up in the background. “It looks like it’s about time to wrap our evening up! Shiro, if you’d like to say some parting words?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course.” He stands in the center of the men on the rooftop, trying his best to ignore the hurt written in Keith’s eyes. “Thank you all for coming today and being such good sports. You were all so impressive, and I really loved getting to know each of you”—Shiro nearly cringes at his own cliched words—”a little bit better. But, it’s late now, and I’m sure you would really like to hit the hay, so I think we’ll call it a night, yeah?”

The men all agree, a bit quieter than normal. As they all turn to head to their car, Shiro remembers his other task tonight.

“James, Keith, can I speak with you for a moment?”

They both pause, nodding their agreement and heading back toward Shiro, while the others glance back curiously and head downstairs.

“This is going to be awkward for all of us, so I’m just going to cut right to it. What’s happening between you two? If there’s something there, I think it would be fair to us all for you both to excuse yourselves and go home now, before anyone gets hurt.”

Keith’s eyes shutter, his arms wrapping themselves around his body.

James scoffs. “Are you _serious_?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Shiro answers impatiently. “If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“I don’t understand what’s happening right now,” Keith mutters, looking between Shiro and James. “What’s happening right now? What are you asking?”

“I’m asking if the two of you have something going on. You’ve been flirting nearly all day, and it’s been noticeable.”

A long silence trails in his statement’s wake.

James presses his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose, breathing out hard. “Okay. Okay. Let me break this down. Let me be perfectly clear. I just don’t think I like him.” James punctuates his sentence by jabbing a thumb in Keith’s direction. “I told you he gets under your skin. I’ve been trying to figure out what’s up with his fuckin’ attitude, man.”

“My attitude? What are you even talking about?”

“Are you _kidding_ me?” James demands. “The whole broody, aloof thing might do it for some guys, but not _me,_ okay? I see right through you. You don’t really want to be here. You have a motive, and I’m going to figure it out.”

“The only thing you need to figure is your own head out of your ass, dude,” Keith hisses back.

Shiro was impossibly annoyed at them earlier today due to misplaced jealousy. But now, watching them argue about how much they don’t like each other, each instance of their earlier interactions slots into better place. The arguing, the touching, all of it was a strange form of sizing each other up.

“I see,” Shiro says. “I apologize for misreading the situation.”

“Amazing,” James says. “Well, this has been fun. I’m gonna head back to the car now. Goodnight, Shiro.”

James turns to leave, and Keith huffs a small breath, making to follow after his lead. Before he can stop himself, Shiro darts an arm out to snag his wrist.

“Hey, Keith. Do you mind waiting a second?”

Keith looks back at Shiro, his eyes bouncing between the fingers wrapped around his wrist and somewhere just above Shiro’s eyes. Finally, he relents and turns back to face Shiro. It’s hard, but Shiro tries his best to ignore the cameras closing in on them.

They stand there for a moment, regarding each other in silence, before Shiro lets out a big breath. “I’m sorry if I offended you. That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“I’m just confused, is all,” Keith answers quietly. He sounds awkward and pained, and that’s fair, Shiro thinks.

“I, uh,” he starts, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I don’t know if you can tell, but I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

“Oh, believe me. I can tell.”

Shiro smiles at Keith’s deadpan delivery, enjoying the small smile Keith gives him in turn.

“I just. I really want you to be here. And I know I kind of ignored you today. I’m sorry for that. I got wrapped up in where I was and what I was doing, and I didn’t even realize it happened until after the fact. So. Yeah. Please stay.”

Shiro squeezes Keith’s wrist lightly.

Keith smirks up at him, rolling his eyes playfully.

“I never said anything about leaving.”

 

+++

 

The day of the second group date dawns bright and obnoxious. Birds chirp outside Shiro’s window, the sun’s rays shine down directly in his eyes, and Honerva sits perfectly perched on the edge of his bed.

Shiro bolts upright, gathering the blankets around his chest to preserve his dignity. What dignity he’s protecting, he’ll never know. He barely feels like he has any left these days.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!”

Shiro groans, tugging the blankets up around his chin. “This has to be illegal. This is illegal, right?”

“Not when you signed a contract in seventy-four different places!”

“ _Fuck._ ”

“Well, that’s hardly necessary. How about you get out of bed and we’ll discuss today’s date?”

Shiro flops back among the warm sheets, dramatically throwing his arm across his face.

“Now, now,” Honerva soothes, patting his ankle. “It could be worse. You could still be thinking James was working on stealing your favorite away.”

Shiro presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. _Hard._ “I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up.”

“I’m running the show you’re on. This is all we’re going to talk about all week, Shiro. Unless, of course, you peel yourself out of bed and get ready for this date. I could be persuaded to give you a pass, then.”

Shiro flips the blankets back and immediately rolls gracelessly out onto the floor. Honerva leans over the edge of the bed, peering down at him as he grumbles and stands.

“You didn’t need to do all that for my sake.”

Shiro huffs a laugh. “The pleasure was all mine.”

Honerva smiles in return and holds out a new info packet. “Your date.”

Shiro sighs in relief as he reads over the call sheet. It’s a much simpler affair this time, more athletic. An obstacle course challenge followed by a trip to a bar downtown. Considering who is scheduled to be on this one, he finds it more appropriate.

Adam is in this group, which catches his interest. He enjoyed their chat on the first night, and wouldn’t mind getting to know him a little more. On the other hand, Matt is also on this outing. Considering their history, Shiro is still a little leery of how this all might go. It could go well, but it could also go the exact way Shiro is worried that it might. There’s only one way to find out, he supposes.

Prep goes faster this time around, now that Shiro seems to have found a bit of a groove. He assumes that the more he does this, the more rote it will become, and that concerns him a little. What if he finds this boring at some point? What if this entire venture gets old and stale? That’s hardly the way to begin a relationship or make compelling television.

He shakes the thoughts from his head. No matter what, he gets to experience things he never would have otherwise. Crazy excursions, beautiful vacations, a gaggle of men fighting for his attention. It’s all like a dream. A high-pressure, hormonal dream.

Shiro continues to ponder his luck as he finishes dressing and heads downstairs to the limo with Honerva. Today, he’s dressed in an athletic ensemble worth more than he would consider to be smart, but hey. He didn’t pay for it.

The men are already on location as Shiro pulls up to a gigantic football stadium, answering Zarkon’s usual terse line of questioning. Coran meets him at the door of the limo, beckoning him out with glee. Even he is dressed for the part, all trussed up in compression everything with his hair slicked back against his head.

“Good morning, Takashi! Are you ready for a workout?”

“Sure am, Coran,” Shiro answers with a fond smile. Coran is all bright energy and broad smiles, and it cheers Shiro up endlessly whenever he sees him.

“Then let’s get to it!” Coran leads him to the middle of the massive field, where all the men are huddled. The cameras follow as Coran and Shiro make their way to the very center of the group.

“Hello, everyone,” Shiro greets with a forced smile, gearing up to deliver the worst line he’s ever been asked to repeat in his entire life. “Are you ready to get a little sweaty with me today?”

All the men cheer in response as Coran waggles his eyebrows at Shiro.

“The rules, Gentlemen!” Coran calls with a clap. “We’ll divide you all into two teams. Your job today is to complete the obstacle course you see before you. The team that finishes first will receive a date with Shiro this evening! How does that strike you?”

The men cheer again and Coran gestures to Shiro to go through the rules.

“Okay, so to win, you’ll need to run into the pools in front of you and grab one of the wedding rings inside. Then, you’ll carry the ring with you as you climb the rope ladder next, work your way through the hoops course after that, and then sprint the last ten yards to the finish line. Think you can do that?”

Everyone agrees, and Coran announces the two teams — Adam, Lance, Lotor, Thace, and Ulaz on the first; Matt, Sven, Antok, Sal, and Haxus on the second. They break off, talking strategy and running through stretches as they all prepare. Shiro decides not to interact, instead, choosing to hang back and observe. He doesn’t do enough of that, in his opinion, and it may behoove him to start.

He watches team one plan carefully what they’ll do, pointing out potential areas of concern and discussing the best way to hold on to the ring. Team two, he notices, barely speak to each other, instead choosing to squint curiously at the course as if it may come to life and beat them all up at any moment.

After ten minutes, Coran calls them all to attention. Shiro holds a starting flag in his hand, ready to send them off, but before he does, he turns to them all with a sharp smile.

“May the best team win.”

He waves the flag, and they’re off. Considering how the plane date went, Shiro is prepared for any manner of sabotage and infighting. Instead, he gets two teams that operate rather smoothly. Team one is swift and efficient, each member zipping through the course on their pre-planned path as if they were merely filling out a form at the DMV. Team two is much clumsier. Their lack of planning shines through as Matt faceplants in an extremely impressive fashion while climbing through the hoops course.

At the end of it all, team one stands victorious several minutes before team two even sends their last member through the course.

“Congratulations, guys!” Shiro calls as they gather around him. Team two takes their leave quietly, and Shiro sends them each an apologetic look as they wander off. “Tonight, we’ll be heading to a really cool club in the heart of the city for some drinks and some time to just hang out. I look forward to seeing each of you there.”

As Shiro finishes his statement, he looks around to each of their faces, but gets caught for a few moments on Adam’s, looking softly excited. He’s not wearing his glasses, presumably to avoid breaking them, and that allows Shiro to see his face completely uninhibited. He’s beautiful, in an understated way. His skin is smooth, his eyes are soft, and the corners of his mouth turn up in a seemingly permanent smile. Shiro takes a sharp breath, clearing his throat.

“I’ll see you all there!”

It’s embarrassing, rushing away from an entire group of men so nobody sees you blush. Shiro shoves himself in the back of the car, smothering his face with his hands. He’s so busy trying to absorb his mortification that he doesn’t notice the door open.

“Well, that was certainly interesting.”

“Honerva,” Shiro answers with a groan.

“Aren’t you glad I told you not to focus on Keith?”

Shiro groans again. Honerva laughs at his misfortune.

“It could be worse, you know. I know having an entire pack of gorgeous men vying for your attention is a burden, but do try to be positive.”

“I’m positive I’m gonna die.” His hands are getting muggy from breathing into them, but he refuses to show his face. He’ll never reveal himself again. Surely Adam saw his panic. He must have, if Honerva noticed.

“If it helps,” she leans in with a whisper, “he watched your butt the entire time you ran away.”

Shiro groans harder.

The bar downtown isn’t nearly as ostentatious as the bar from his first group date of the week. This one is a quaint, brick-clad hole-in-the-wall that oozes personality and warmth. Shiro steps in to the sound of jazz blaring overhead, and is quickly encapsulated in shouts as the men watch his approach. They’ve each cleaned up nicely from the exertion of earlier in the day, and Honerva was right. They’re all extremely attractive. Shiro still can’t completely believe they’re all here for him.

Still, he finds his eye drawn to Adam, sitting at a high top table, chatting with Lance amicably. He’s animated in an understated way, barely waving his hands to emphasize a point, slightly raising a brow on a punchline, smothering a laugh under a palm as Lance regales him with a story. When the other men announce Shiro’s presence, Adam turns to where he stands at the door, and the multicolored lights overhead crown him in a glowing halo. Shiro takes it like a punch to the gut.

He swallows the feeling and steps calmly into the fray.

“Hello again, everyone! Fancy seeing you here.” They all give their contractually obligated fake laughter. “Tonight is to congratulate you on your performance today, and to give me an opportunity to get to know you a little better. So let’s have a few drinks and relax a bit, and see what happens.”

Shouts of agreement swirl the room, and immediately, Shiro finds himself tugged away by Lotor. He can’t help but laugh at the immediacy. They sit down at a booth, two drinks suddenly appearing before them as they do.

“And here we are,” Lotor purrs, leaning close. Shiro does his best to nonchalantly lean back a bit at the uninvited closeness.

“Here we are. Did you enjoy yourself today?”

“Well, it’s not often I find myself participating in team activities, but I did find it quite refreshing.”

Shiro tries not to roll his eyes. He seems to be doing a lot of that these days. “How so?”

“I’m more of an individualistic man, myself. I’m sure you can understand.”

“I don’t know, I think teams can be great. You might not be able to accomplish as much alone as you could with the talents and strengths of others. I think your team proved that today.”

Lotor pauses. “Perhaps. Although, I must say I found myself to be the central strategist.”

And there it is. Shiro assumed Lotor had an angle and it would seem to be making himself sound above everyone else. “The central strategist, huh?”

“Oh, yes,” Lotor says, sipping his drink through bunched cocktail straws. “I’m sure everyone would agree that I was the first to step up and provide the backbone of our plan.”

“I wouldn’t say all that, Lotor,” Lance interrupts. “Mostly you just stood there looking all regal while the rest of us analyzed obstacles. Shiro, could I steal you away?”

Lotor huffs, setting his glass down. “As you can see, we were in the midd—”

“No, it’s fine, Lotor,” Shiro cuts him off. “I do owe everyone my time. Have another drink and enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Lotor narrows his eyes at Lance. “If you insist.”

“I do,” Lance answers, unbothered. He takes Shiro by the wrist and pulls him out of the booth, leading him toward the back of the room. “Sorry about that,” he tosses over his shoulder, “you looked like you needed a save.”

Shiro huffs out a laugh. “Thank you.”

They plop down on an overstuffed velvet couch that Shiro suspects, not for the first time on one of these dates, does not belong to the establishment they’re in.

“So tell me about yourself, Shiro. Why’d you agree to do this show?”

Honerva suddenly appears out of nowhere, clearing her throat.

“Sorry,” Lance sighs. “Why’d you agree to this process _._ ”

Honerva glares.

“Journey,” Lance amends again.

Shiro laughs, harder this time. “I don’t entirely know, honestly. I thought, maybe if I did something crazy and different, it could be a cool experience?”

“And what about the whole looking for love thing?”

“That would be cool, too,” Shiro says with a small smile. “But I have to tell you, I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

“Here, as in being the bachelor, or here, as in with me?” Lance asks with genuine curiosity. His eyebrows slope up with the question. Shiro pauses. “If the answer is with me, Shiro, I promise I won’t be offended. You’re like, my personal hero, so I might be making it a little weird, huh?”

Shiro smiles at that. “It’s not you. You’re perfectly fine, Lance. Give yourself some credit.”

Lance relaxes, leaning in close. “Then, for what it’s worth, I think you’re doing an excellent job. You’re a really great guy, Shiro.”

Shiro leans forward, unconsciously drifting into Lance’s atmosphere. “Thank you, Lance. That’s really sweet of you.”

“Yes, I agree.” Thace’s voice startles them both, sending them flying to opposite ends of the couch. Shiro clears his throat awkwardly while Lance dusts imaginary lint off of one shoulder, attempting to seem completely unruffled. “It would seem I’ve interrupted the moment. I can come back.”

“Nope!” Lance announces, standing up abruptly from the couch. “Once the moment’s gone, it’s gone, my man. I’ll see you later, Shiro.”

He disappears into the heart of the bar, leaving Shiro with Thace and the swirling thought that he very nearly gave away his first kiss on the show with no thought at all. It’s a terrifying idea. When Shiro signed on, the very first thing he promised himself was that he wouldn’t be like all the guys he’d seen do this before. He wouldn’t just go around willy nilly, smooching every set of lips that presented themselves to him. But here he is, very nearly doing that. It’s true what they say about the atmosphere the show sets up. It’s a fantasy, so far detached from the way the real world works that you can’t help but be swept up in it. He has to be more careful in the future. He can’t afford to make mistakes like this. He doesn’t even _know_ Lance.

Somehow, Thace doesn’t notice his minute existential crisis, and instead plows on with a story about his time in service, or something of the like. Shiro can’t keep track of the thread of the conversation. Either way, the story ends, and suddenly Thace is replaced by Ulaz. Fortunately, Ulaz goes a little easier on him than Thace. He does his best to tease laughter out of Shiro, and for a period it works. Shiro loses himself in the tale of Ulaz accidentally acquiring six cats for a week, laughing at appropriate moments and asking about where they are now. Still, he can’t keep his attention totally focused on what’s happening. His eyes wander occasionally, when he’s sure Ulaz won’t notice.

He glances over Ulaz’s shoulder just in time to see Adam leaving the restroom.

“I’m sorry, would you excuse me for just a minute?”

“Oh. Yes, of course,” Ulaz answers. He says words of surprise, but doesn’t sound surprised in the least.

Shiro stands, making his way to where Adam wanders along one wall, looking at the collection of art. He’s stopped in front of a painting of a sunrise over the ocean, looking at it with a fond smile on his face.

“Do you like the ocean?” Shiro asks awkwardly.

“I do,” Adam says, still smiling, glancing at Shiro from the corner of his eye. “I grew up near one.”

“Really?”

Adam turns to him now, face soft, smile still there. “Yeah. My family lived in an ocean city for most of my childhood. We moved when I was in high school, but I’ll never forget the sound of the waves, you know?” Adam’s smile stretches wider. Shiro’s stomach swoops. “Sometimes I get a little emotional when I hear seagulls. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“I don’t think so,” Shiro says quietly. Adam’s eyes snap to his mouth.

“Is it my turn, then? I _have_ been waiting pretty patiently, you know,” he jokes.

Shiro smiles. “If you’d be into that.”

“I would have left if I wasn’t.”

“Great.”

They stare at each other for a second. Shiro’s never much understood the idea of charged silence until this very moment. It’s heavy in a way, zinging with what he hopes is mutual attraction, or at the very least, interest. The moment stays, lingering between them until finally, Adam has enough.

“Come on,” he murmurs, grabbing Shiro by the hand. He tugs him back to the couch where Shiro nearly kissed Lance, and everything in Shiro’s mind grinds to a halt. He’d just finished berating himself for leaning into a moment too quickly, and yet here he is, doing it again.

He has to say, though, that this feels different. This feels more appropriate. More right.

They sit down, Adam crossing his legs carefully, avoiding contact with Shiro. It’s a relief.

“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Adam says.

“I feel like I’m about to pass out.”

Adam laughs at his misfortune. “I won’t bite.”

Shiro just hums in response. “You said you grew up near the ocean. Tell me about it?”

Adam sees the diversion for what it is and graciously goes along with it. “My dad worked for an accounting firm, but my mom was a surfer. Total beach chick.” He smiles. “I think you’d like her. She’s a lot like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kind, open, a little self protective, but still enjoys people.” Shiro sucks in a sharp breath. Adam is astute, and Shiro feels flayed alive at being pegged so easily. He knows Adam hears it, because he shifts a little closer as he continues. “We eventually moved because mom retired and dad got a better job in New York, but I still love the ocean most of all. It’s home.”

“Do you live there now?”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

“How so?” Shiro asks. He wouldn’t mind living by the ocean some day.

“I’m working on my master’s now, actually. I want to teach college classes.”

“Really? What subject.”

“Physics.”

“Damn.”

Adam laughs. “It’s not as complicated as everyone thinks. You just have to be patient.”

“Patience yields focus,” Shiro says, repeating the phrase his grandfather taught him as a child. Adam straightens.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It does. Patience can get you all sorts of things.”

“Really?” Shiro asks lowly. “Like what?”

Adam leans in, and Shiro is struck again by his subtle beauty. Everything about him is understated, but assured. He knows who he is and what he wants, but he doesn’t flaunt it. He’s warm and comfortable, an altogether easy person.

Shiro’s also struck again by how this couch seems to make him wants to kiss anyone else sitting on it.

Adam leans closer and Shiro inhales sharply, eyes drifting down the gentle slope of his nose, tracing the plush curve of his mouth. Adam does the same. At the last second, he drifts off to the side of Shiro’s face, placing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Adam draws back with a smile.

“Results.”

Adam gets the rose, and nobody seems surprised. Honerva, least of all.

 

+++

 

“Cocktail party tonight,” Zarkon announces, pushing past Shiro into his hotel room.

“So it would seem,” Shiro says for lack of a better retort.

“I know I told you not to favor Keith,” Honerva says. “But the cocktail party is your chance to really drill down and see who you’d like to keep around. Let go and enjoy yourself a little. I know the dates this week were taxing for you.”

“You can say that again,” Shiro agrees, slipping his coat on.

“I can, but I won’t.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Zarkon grumbles. “Let’s go.”

The mansion looks different when Shiro knows he’ll be sending people home. The lights strung on every tree and candles flickering from multiple tables lack the usual warmth they bring. Instead, Shiro can only stare them down and consider the hours of interaction he has ahead of him.

The car stops in the driveway. Briefly, Shiro considers it as he stares off into the middle distance. It always looks wet, fully dressed for an impactful arrival. It’s symbolic of the show, in a way.

Shiro takes a deep breath and grasps the handle of the limo door. At the very least, it can only get easier from here, right? Front runners are making themselves known, so cuts should be relatively painless. That thought bolsters him as he approaches the front door. Coran meets him, trying his best to pump him up for the evening ahead. Instead, Shiro finds himself struck by a sudden bout of nerves, shuffling awkwardly in the threshold as Coran runs ahead to announce his arrival.

Again, the sounds of excitement meet him as he strolls into the room, his best air of put-on confidence firmly applied.

“I won’t take up too much of your time, fellas! Tonight is one last chance to get to know Shiro before he makes his decision. Use it wisely and enjoy yourselves! Shiro, would you care to add anything?”

Shiro accepts a glass of wine offered his way. “Again, I’d just like to thank you all for being here with me on this journey. Let’s relax and enjoy ourselves tonight, okay?”

Seeming pleased, Coran melts away from the room, leaving Shiro defenseless to the whims of the men before him. He furtively scans the couches and chairs until he lands on the one person that stands out most among them. Keith is sprawled out casually on an ottoman, Lance leaned against his shoulder, watching intently as Keith picks at his cuticles. As if feeling Shiro’s eyes on him, Keith looks up through dark lashes, catching him staring. Keith smiles, a bare uptick at the corner of his mouth, startling Shiro’s heart.

He doesn’t get to approach, though, as a strong arm snags him by the bicep.

“Shiro,” Sendak’s growled voice comes from behind. “Why don’t we go chat?”

He doesn’t want to. He _really_ doesn’t want to. But he also remembers that he owes everyone their equal due whether he likes it or not. With a sigh, Shiro allows himself to be dragged off to the back patio to listen as Sendak sings his own praises. Shiro expertly pulls away after a while and wanders back inside.

He finds Lance and Kinkade just inside the doors, talking animatedly about the latest flight gear they’ve managed to work with. Shiro remembers a time when he got just as excited over things like that. He walks up with a smile and asks if they wouldn’t mind him chiming in, losing himself in chatter about jumpsuits and helmets.

Matt approaches eventually. “Can I grab you for a minute?”

“Yeah, sure,” Shiro says, but his voice is unconvincing to his own ear. “Of course.”

Matt’s smile is relieved as he pulls him into the living room. “I wanted to apologize again for this. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“I’m not gonna lie, Matt. It’s pretty awkward.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Because I never even knew you felt this way until I went on a very large and highly publicised television show. You can imagine my concern.”

Matt laughs and elbows him in the side. “At least I didn’t propose first thing.”

Shiro pauses, momentarily caught off guard. And then he laughs. Matt joins him, both of them collapsing in on themselves in helpless giggles. “Look, Matt,” Shiro says, wiping tears from his eyes, “I promised I’d give you a chance, and I will. Let’s just put the weirdness behind us and see what happens, alright?”

“Alright,” Matt agrees, with a fresh smile of relief.

“Great. I’m gonna get back and chat with everyone else. I’ll see you soon.”

“See ya, Shiro.”

The next person Shiro runs into is Sven, and the uncanny valley of their resemblance renders Shiro incapable of addressing him properly. So he doesn’t. He turns tail and runs.

Right into Adam.

“Hey there, handsome,” Adam greets with a laugh, steadying Shiro by the arm. “You good?”

“I, uh.” Stuttering isn’t a very good look on him, Shiro thinks, but his mouth seems to do whatever it wants these days. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“It’s a lie if I’ve ever said one.”

“How about we get you out of here for a minute?”

“That sounds amazing.”

Adam leads Shiro to the garden, guiding him to sit on an ornate, wrought iron bench. It’s silent for a while, longer than Shiro can remember pausing recently. But it’s nice, just the two of them sitting quietly, surrounded by flowers, staring up at the stars once again.

“I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid, you know,” Adam says, and it sounds like a confession. Shiro turns to look at him. His face is still upturned, eyes locked on the stars, but there’s a wistful smile stretched across his lips. Shiro wants to run his fingers over it.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Turns out, though, you gotta be willing to leave Earth to do that.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “And you didn’t want to?”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, really. It was just that I wasn’t sure what I’d find when I came back. What if everyone moved on? Forgot what it was like to have me in their lives? That’s a heavy thought for a kid.”

Shiro’d never thought of it like that. To him, reaching the stars was all there _was._ It was the ultimate goal. Whatever needed to happen to accommodate that would happen. Still, he can see how that would be a concern.

“It is a heavy thought,” he agrees. Adam looks to him, appreciation in his eyes.

“But hey, if I were an astronaut, who knows. Maybe I would’ve met you sooner.”

Shiro’s heart skips a beat. Adam’s shy smile is still radiant, aimed over at him the way it is. He’s in dangerous territory, he realizes. His crush is getting bigger. It’s so fast, the rate at which he finds it growing, but at the same time he can’t quite find it in himself to be afraid. There’s just something in Adam’s air that feels safe. Something that feels right. He has to put a cap on the thought when he finds himself dragged away by a group of the men challenging him to an arm wrestling competition.

He wanders into the dining room, plopping at a table surrounded by Thace, Ulaz, Antok, Blaytz, and Haxus. They all want a go, Haxus going so far as to demand a match against Shiro’s prosthetic. He doesn’t have the heart to deny him, and when it ends just as he predicts, with a crushing defeat, he barely manages to smother a triumphant grin.

Rax, Rolo, and Bii-Boh-Bi grab him next, plopping down at the side of the pool to dip their bare feet in. Rax and Bii-Boh-Bi bore Shiro a bit, having nothing in common to speak of, but Rolo stands out. He’s smart and engaging, and his stories of various clients asking him to program more and more ridiculous things make Shiro laugh more than he has in days. The interaction counterbalances Shiro’s experience during the flight group date, and he finds himself grateful for the moment.

The time comes, however, for Shiro to move on and spread his time around as promised. He finds Hunk and Sal in the kitchen, chatting about their favorite recipes. Sal isn’t really Shiro’s type at all - there’s something just a tad too sharp about him - but Hunk is so bright and animated. Shiro always enjoys speaking with him, no matter when it is or what it’s about. Kinkade wanders through the kitchen a few times while the trio chats, and Shiro can’t help but notice the sly (or so Ryan thinks, anyway) glances aimed Hunk’s way as he animatedly discusses varying yeast strains. It’s something Shiro will have to put a pin in for now, but he’ll definitely need to keep an eye on that whole situation.

Prorok butts in, guiding Shiro through stilted conversation. It’s extremely clear that there’s nothing in it for either of them, but rather than make it awkward, Prorok at least does Shiro the favor of wishing him luck for the rest of the evening. It’s kind in a way he definitely doesn’t have to be, all things considered.

Lance slips in again, much to Shiro’s relief. He likes Lance a lot. Shiro can just relax around him and not have to worry about much. It’s a great relief in the whirlwind action of everything else. Lance laughs and jokes about how everyone is dressed and acting, and it’s so nice for Shiro to be able to loosen up, even if for just a few minutes.

But then. Then.

Keith wanders by with a whiskey glass in his hand, aimlessly trailing through the mansion. Hunk waves him over, and Shiro watches as Keith takes his time in going to speak with him and Ryan, smiling as he approaches. Shiro’s heart jumps a fraction in his chest, watching the easy grace Keith conducts himself with. It doesn’t even seem like Keith knows just how he comes across. Keith is simply Keith, interacting with the world with almost secondary concern for how, exactly, he does it. Hunk cracks a joke, and Keith throws his head back, laughing belly-deep and brilliant with his eyes squinted shut.

Shiro can’t take it anymore. He finds himself moving before he realizes what’s even happening.

“Hey guys. How’s the evening?”

“Oh, Hey Shiro,” Keith greets, clearly not having noticed Shiro’s approach. Shiro doesn’t know whether to be offended or awed at his nonchalance.

“Keith, could I grab you for a bit?”

Hunk and Kinkade share an extremely unsubtle glance, which Shiro chooses to ignore. Keith shifts on his feet.

“Yeah, of course.”

Shiro leads him out to the mansion’s version of the date couch of forbidden smooches, shoving the thought out of his mind with purpose. They sit down, Keith perched on the edge like he may take flight at any moment. His legs shuffle in place as he gets comfortable. Shiro watches the motion like a hawk, barely noticing anything else until Lance walks past the couch. He makes a face at Keith, earning himself a sharp glare in return.

“Woah,” Shiro mutters. “What’s all that about?”

Keith sighs. “Lance is a really good friend of mine, you know? I love him, okay, but that doesn’t mean I _like_ him.”

Shiro laughs. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean he’s an ass. You wanna know about the time we met? I was working with a buddy in our school’s library on a report we had due for a class, right. And Lance just fuckin’...he just strolls on up to our table like we’re not busy, throws himself down into a chair, and announces that I owe him a rematch. I’m like, ‘A rematch of what?’ because I don’t know this dude, never met him in my life, and he goes, ‘Are you serious?’ like I’m making a joke. So I’m like, ‘Deadass,’ and you wanna know what his answer was? This man looks me right in the eye and says, ‘You know what you did.’”

“Okay, but what did you do?”

Keith throws up his hands. “I still don’t know! To this day, he hasn’t told me. I hate him so much.”

“No you don’t.”

“You’re right, I don’t. Anyway, a week later, I see him at a party trying to chat up this huge group at one time. I walk by to get a drink, and this dude says his greatest joy in life is spreading inspiration and proper skin care, and I’m dying, because who _says_ that, you know? So I roll by and say, ‘Man, have you even _seen_ dogs?’”

Keith pauses for dramatic effect, a move Shiro finds he appreciates more than he probably should.

“He stops talking for a whole minute and just pulls his phone out to start showing me his family pets. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

Shiro smiles at the softness that takes over Keith’s face while he speaks. It’s fond and happy, and Shiro can’t help but wonder if, maybe, someday that fondness will be ascribed to him.

“Do you have a dog right now?”

Keith’s eyes snap back into focus, his face turning extremely serious. He leans forward, bracing his hands on the couch cushion between them as he peers up into Shiro’s eyes. “I have the best boy in the whole world.”

His tone startles a new laugh out of Shiro’s chest. “Tell me about him?”

“His name is Kosmo. With a K. Lance picked it because I didn’t name him for a long time. I hate it, but it’s all he answers to, now.”

“Why didn’t you pick a name?”

Keith shrugs. “I figured he’d tell me when he was ready.”

Shiro pauses. Keith answered so simply, as if the sentence he said was just the truth of nature and how all things worked. You want to name your dog? Wait until it tells you what it likes. No big deal. That’s just how it is. Keith is probably the most enigmatic man Shiro has ever met. Every new glimpse of him makes Shiro yearn for more. Keith goes on talking about Kosmo and all the things the goodest boy has ever done, but Shiro can’t focus on anything beyond the smooth line of his brow and soft movement of his lips as he speaks. He’s expressive, but in a subtle way.

Shiro knows, without a doubt, that Keith will be the first person he kisses on this show.

He wants to do it now, if he’s completely honest with himself. But he won’t. He _can’t._ Television show or not, he wants to treat Keith right. He wants to take his time and build a foundation. If they’re going to have anything beyond the four walls of this rented mansion, he wants to make sure it’s something of substance.

He comes back to himself, realizing just how close he’s leaning as Keith keeps speaking, warm and low. He knows he’s being desperate and obvious, and that he should probably backpedal from this because it can only end poorly for him, but it’s just so difficult because Keith is absolutely _magnetic._ Something about him is magical and mysterious. He’s the most attractive man Shiro has ever seen, and for a second, he feels guilt over that. He’s making other connections, getting to know other people, but for some reason, Keith tops them all, and it’s only been a week.

Keith finishes bragging about his beautiful, furry son and takes a deep breath. “So, do you have any—”

“Hello, boys,” James interrupts the question. His eyes are fixed on Shiro, smug smile stretched across his face, and Shiro _burns_ at the interruption. “I hope you don’t mind me butting in, but time is getting short around here, so I was hoping to talk with Shiro for a little bit.”

Keith’s expression shutters from the open fondness of just a few minutes before. Shiro frantically looks across at him, mentally begging him to stay. Still, it’s only been a week. They don’t know each other well enough to read expressions that way yet. Soon, though. Maybe. Hopefully.

Shiro watches in defeat as Keith retreats into the house, to be replaced by a mindlessly chattering James. Shiro zones out while he talks. It’s rude, he knows, but all he wanted was to spend more time with Keith. To really get to know him more. James got in the way of that. It makes him angrier than is rational. It’s a game for them all. Everyone is going to jostle and scrape to win. That’s just how it is. Shiro sighs, tuning back in as James wraps up his story. He thanks him for sharing it, and excuses himself to find Honerva.

He’s ready to end the night.

 

+++

 

Honerva pulls him into the decision room and they argue over who he wants to eliminate. He wants Sendak to go, Sendak _needs_ to go, but the producers won’t let him make that cut yet. They suggest he cut Hunk loose, because they seem more friendly than anything, but Shiro staunchly refuses. He thinks about Kinkade’s not-so-subtle glances and decides that he doesn’t want to be the only one with a chance, here.

Eventually they agree on eliminations, and before he goes, Shiro declares that he’s also decided who is getting the final rose for the evening.

Honerva looks at him curiously, and he can tell that Zarkon wants to say something. Neither of them do, however. Instead, Honerva sends for Coran, and Shiro follows them all out into the living room for the rose ceremony.

“Hello again, gentlemen!” Coran greets brightly. He’s the only one of them that hasn’t been up and mingling for hours. His voice carries that lightness enviably. “Hopefully everyone enjoyed their group date experiences this week! It’s been a long night for all of you, so I’ll turn it over to Shiro.”

Shiro smiles nervously as he steps up to the silver tray of roses. Each week, the pile is going to grow smaller and smaller, and Shiro can’t help but zone out at the thought. He shakes himself out of it quickly enough, thanking Coran.

“Thank you all for still being here,” he says to the room at large. His eyes meet Keith’s and hold for a moment. “Thank you for taking this chance with me.”

Shiro plucks the first rose from the tray.

“Keith.”

Keith accepts it with his usual grace. His eyes shine with a question, but he lets it fall to the wayside. No matter, Shiro will pry it out of him later, hopefully.

The rest of the roses go by quickly, until Shiro is left with two buds and six men. Taking a deep breath, Shiro steadies himself before uttering a pained, “Sendak.”

The man lumbers forward confidently, as if he isn’t receiving the second-to-last rose. He snatches it out of Shiro’s hands and pins it to his own lapel before scooping Shiro’s hand out of midair and dropping a kiss to the knuckles. Shiro’s other hand flexes into a fist at his side.

“Thank you, gorgeous.” The words drip like oil from between Sendak’s lips. Shiro fights the shudder that worms up his spine.

“Gentlemen,” Coran announces, stepping back into the room. “It’s the final rose of the evening. Shiro, when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Coran.” Shiro looks up to five nervous pairs of eyes watching him. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He hopes this rose gets his message across. He hopes his point is made. It likely won’t be, considering his other interactions this evening. But there’s still a chance. “James.”

Relief floods the man’s face as he stumbles to step forward. He pulls up short in front of Shiro, looking up at him nervously. Shiro schools his face into something serious. “James, do you accept this final rose?” He can’t help emphasizing the fact that James came in last this week.

James gulps. “Yes, of course.”

_Message delivered._

Shiro relaxes, smiling warmly and patting his shoulder after pinning the rose to his jacket. “Great.”

Coran returns, regarding the room at large. “Well, gentlemen. If you didn’t receive a rose, it’s time for you to say your goodbyes and leave the mansion.”

Prorok, Rax, Bii-Boh-Bi, and Sal make slow turns around the room, offering handshakes and well wishes before seeing themselves out. Prorok is the only one who stops in front of Shiro to thank him for his time. It’s just as well, he thinks. He’ll have to see their exit interviews anyway, and he’s positive they won’t be flattering.

Shiro glances at the designer watch wrapped around his wrist as a glass of champagne is pressed into his hand by some faceless set hand appearing out of nowhere. Five a.m. _Jesus._

The remaining men gather around, raising their glasses to the center of the huddle. Shiro glances around at them all, eyes lingering on Adam’s face. “Thank you for getting through this week with me. It means more than I can say.”

He shifts his gaze to Keith.

“To finding love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honerva drinking her fourth espresso: honestly, fuck this guy.


End file.
